


Divide

by SLynn



Series: Recruitment [8]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I am horrible at tagging, everything is tears, except Thor, mentions of previous abuse, nothing is happy, ongoing series, the gang is all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLynn/pseuds/SLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only a matter of time before someone tried to test their defenses; before the past came calling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the 8th part of a multi-part series and I am so sorry it's taken me forever to start posting again. I've been working on this forever and, as my beta Tripp3235 can attest, changing this dang thing a thousand different ways. I haven't finished it yet, but I'm at the point now where I feel I will be finished soon so the more I write, the more I'll post. On a side note, I have not seen Iron Man 3 yet and that makes me very sad. Next weekend, I swear it! Enjoy.

"Are we almost done here?" Clint asked, but Tony noted he wasn't scowling, so he couldn't be bored yet.

"Why? Got a date?" Tony asked, not-so-subtly looking over his shoulder at Natasha who was on the observation deck of the weapons range.

"Do not start," Clint returned, and with it returned the frown Tony had grown used to seeing on the other man's face over the past few weeks. 

Actually, it wasn't so much a frown as a blank stare. Since coming back to New York, Clint had moved almost manically from one task to the next, emoting as little as possible in what Tony recognized as a never-ending quest to stay busy.

Busy was fine, in fact Tony loved being busy, but Clint didn't seem to get any enjoyment out of his work, his training, his... well, his anything anymore. It was exactly why Tony had switched gears and gotten back to upgrading and redesigning Barton's equipment. He figured that might at least entertain him for an afternoon, or something.

Mostly, it had worked.

"I wasn't starting," Tony offered. "I was observing. I'm allowed to observe."

"There's nothing to see," Clint answered, swapping out glasses before scanning the range. "What the hell are these supposed to do?"

"Night vision," Tony answered.

"Nice," Clint returned, handing them back, with an almost-smile.

"Thought you'd like those. And they'd be useful. Your other pair were crap."

"They did the job," Clint returned, but it was half-hearted at best. They had been crap and it was the one thing, well one of the things, he'd regularly complained about. He was positive that whatever Tony had come up with would be a huge improvement on what he already owned.

"Try these. They are my favorite."

"Whoa," Clint said as he slid them on, his voice awed as he looked around the room.

"Right," Tony said, nodding his head in agreement and altogether very pleased with himself. "They have a heads-up display with targeting and tracking, plus a facial recognition program that will ID potential friendlies or threats."

"Is this what the inside of your suit looks like?" Clint asked, more than a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information being displayed before his eyes, as he continuously scanned the room.

"No, the suit has more. These don't have enough power to run that many programs and they aren't hooked up to the main system."

"This is..."

"Great, right?"

"Too much," Clint countered.

"How can that even be a thing?"

"Because, I can't... I can't concentrate," Clint said as he still looked around the room, feeling lost in it because of the constant changes taking place on the lens. "I can't focus on anything. How do you look at all this and not get sick? It's distracting."

"Well, there's gratitude," Tony huffed. "Give them here."

Clint laughed and happily handed them back. True, he'd been more than a little excited to see what Tony would come up with ever since the miniature bow had arrived in the mail back in LA, but this was too much. He'd expected some modifications, and the night vision glasses were probably going to end up being amazing, but otherwise Tony could keep all his programs and gadgets and swirling mass of streaming information for himself. Clint didn't want them.

"Give me the bow, too."

"You're serious?" Clint asked as Tony put the glasses on for himself and held out his hand. "Okay then," he said, handing it to him reluctantly and taking a big step back.

"JARVIS," Tony called out, "set up something more challenging, will you?"

 _"At once, sir,"_ the AI responded, and the range reconfigured itself with multiple targets and obstacles almost immediately.

"Thank you," Tony said, taking one of the experimental arrows from the quiver and scanning the range. "Mark it."

"Who are you talking to now?" Clint asked, because he really wasn't sure.

"It's voice activated," Tony replied, not at all clearing things up for Clint. "I'm going to hit the one in the center."

"Sure you are, Tony."

"The arrow has a propulsion system built in," Tony stopped to explain, mostly because he loved explaining things. Especially things he made. "They're connected to the display which allows the user, me in this case, to find a target, mark it and the tracking system guides it in. Simple."

"Or, you know... I could just aim for it. That's simple too."

"I like my way."

"That is the rumor," Clint returned, earning a smile from Tony.

"Here it goes," Tony said, holding the bow and attempting to draw the string.

"Problem?" Clint asked after a few minutes of watching Tony struggle, not bothering to hide his smirk.

"This... this is not right. This is malfunctioning or... Is it broken? No, wait. It can't be broken. I made it."

"Let me see," Clint said, taking the bow out of Tony's hands, drawing the string and letting it snap before shrugging and giving it back to him again. He hadn't said anything, but the first thing Clint had done to the bow was to adjust the tension. "Nope. Works fine."

"All right, smartass," Tony said, giving him the bow back. "It's already locked in. You try."

"Do I have to wear the glasses?"

"No."

"All right," Clint said as Tony handed him the arrow.

On the observation deck Natasha really wasn't watching them, she was actually going over the latest intel report SHIELD had sent regarding her next mission. It wouldn't take her long, judging from the report, and Natasha wasn't even sure she was needed, but she was going to take it. She'd decided that the moment they'd asked and had already dyed her hair platinum in anticipation of the extensions she'd soon be getting to complete her new look.

It was a strange time.

Clint and Natasha had successfully avoided one another and after her talk with Tony things in the Tower no longer felt tense. Maybe they'd never been tense, and it had been all in her head, but knowing how Tony and the rest of the Avengers felt had set Natasha at ease. They wanted her here and Clint wouldn't fight against it.

It was exactly what she wanted but it didn't make her happy; she hadn't done it to make herself happy. She'd done it so that Clint could be happy, one day.

Clint deserved to be happy, which was why he belonged here.

Natasha didn't know what she deserved, but she imagined she'd get whatever that was eventually.

"Hey."

"Hill," Natasha returned, not bothering to look up from her file. She'd spotted her on the way in and knew, eventually, the other woman would make her way over.

"I have to ask --"

"No, you don't," Natasha interrupted, still not looking up at Hill.

"I actually do," Hill countered, but to her credit she didn't sound as if she was enjoying any of this. "Is Barton going to take another mission any time soon? Or at all?"

"He's right over there," Natasha said, setting down the notebook and meeting Maria's eyes with her own. "Ask him."

"I was told to ask you."

"I have nothing to say."

"Because there's nothing to tell or because he's not speaking to you, either?" Natasha shut the cover of her notebook and met Maria's eyes with a cold glare. "Listen," Maria continued after a pause as she slid into the chair beside Natasha's, "after what happened I don't blame him for being... reluctant to go out, but it doesn't look good. This whole shutting down thing he's doing, that doesn't look good either."

"I didn't realize you were so concerned with appearances," Natasha said smoothly.

"Appearance is everything, and you know it."

"I know that Clint was tortured at another agent's behest and so far... nothing?"

"Agent Campbell was removed from his post."

"How devastating for him," Natasha said dryly.

Maria narrowed her eyes at the other woman but bit back her initial reply. "Did Barton tell you what happened?" she asked instead.

"He didn't have to."

"Did he tell you that he didn't want a complaint filed?" Natasha's eyebrows shot up in surprise but she didn't answer her. She didn't have to. Her reaction was all the answer Maria needed.

"No one wants to look weak," Natasha said quietly, at first. "He files a complaint and it's a sign he can't handle it or himself."

"Well, that's one way to look at it," Maria returned, getting back to her feet.

"And the other?"

"That he's guilty. And if he files a complaint, well, it will have to be looked into. Investigated. He doesn't file one and it just goes away."

"You think what they did to him is just going to go away?"

"No," Maria answered, quite sincerely.

"So you're telling me this..."

"Because someone needs to get it through his thick head and that usually falls on you."

"Not anymore."

"Well," Maria sighed, glancing over her shoulder at Clint and Tony on the range, "that is a shame."

"Is Fury concerned?" Natasha asked after a pause.

"Not about Barton," Maria answered. "Not like that. But... something's going on," she finished vaguely. "We all need to stay on our toes."

"I never stopped."

"Good," Maria sighed, realizing she wasn't going to get any more information out of her. "Any idea where I can find Banner?"

"The lab."

"Nice talking with you, Romanoff."

Natasha gave her a less than pleasant smile in return and waited until Hill was gone before turning her eyes back to Clint and Tony. The two of them were seemingly unaware of what had transpired and actually looked like they were having fun. Together they'd destroyed most of the targets on the range and were laughing even, which made her smile.

It was a nice change for him, even if it left her feeling less than... just less.

Suddenly needing to be anywhere else, Natasha grabbed her notebook and was heading towards the exit when instinct made her stop. It was a sound, a pause, a sudden shift in the atmosphere around her that she'd registered, that Natasha had trained for, that made her do it. She stopped on the stairs and turned just in time to see it happen.

Clint had fired an arrow, one of Tony's she had no doubt, but instead of hitting the target, it traversed the length of the range and then swung back at them like a boomerang.

Clint saw it first, grabbing Tony by the elbow and hauling him back several feet with him, but it wasn't far enough. Natasha watched in muted horror as Clint shoved Tony to the floor and took the hit himself. He'd staggered backwards a few more steps before finally half-sitting, half-falling to the ground.

Willing herself not to run, Natasha walked swiftly to where they were. If she ran, she would panic, and she wasn't about to panic. Natasha didn't do panic.

"Holy shit," Tony exclaimed, having already gotten back on his feet as he made it to Clint's side. "JARVIS?"

_"Yes, sir."_

"Ask Bruce to standby in the infirmary and send a high-level call for assistance on the range."

_"At once, sir."_

Clint was sitting up, partially assisted by Tony, but was awake and his color looked good. The arrow had hit him high on the right side of his chest, near his shoulder. With a glance Natasha guessed he'd at least broken his collar bone. She also figured he was in a partial state of shock, just given the look in his eyes.

"Showing off again?" she asked as she knelt on his left side.

"You know me," Clint returned, but already his voice was starting to sound breathy.

"Let me just go on record as saying that was not supposed to happen," Tony interjected.

"Well, don't be offended if... if next time you ask me to try some stuff out I wear my body armor," Clint replied, earning a laugh from the other man. 

"Can you move your arm?" Natasha asked, quickly becoming all business.

"A little," Clint answered, flexing it enough to satisfy her, but still wincing from the effort.

"What about your hand? Your fingers?"

Clint rotated his right wrist from side-to-side before wiggling his fingers without any problems.

"Any pain?" she asked, which made Clint and Tony both roll their eyes in near unison.

"No, none at all," he snapped back at her. "This actually feels really good and... yeah, I'm going to keep it. It's a good look, right?"

"Don't be a smartass."

"It's the only kind of ass I know how to be," Clint returned and despite the circumstances, it felt normal between them.

"Well, that's not true, but you are good at it," Natasha admitted before becoming serious again. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah, just... give me a minute."

Natasha and Tony got to their feet before helping Clint up. Natasha took his good left arm and pulled him to his feet as Tony helped to keep him steady. As he stood, Steve arrived.

"What happened?" he called as he dashed across the room.

"Tony tried to kill me," Clint answered, rather enjoying the shocked look on Steve's face. To his credit, Steve only looked shocked for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to amuse both Clint and Tony temporarily.

"No fair," Tony fired back at him, "you shot yourself."

"Steve," Natasha said, ignoring them both, "can you help Clint to the infirmary?"

"Of course," Steve answered, taking Natasha's spot at Clint's side and guiding him towards the door.

Natasha heard Clint grumble something about being able to walk by himself, but otherwise he went without much complaint. Tony had started to follow, but Natasha reached out and tugged at his elbow, stopping him in his tracks.

"It might have malfunctioned," Tony said as soon as Steve and Clint were gone, turning first to Natasha and then going quickly to the quiver that had been left behind, but he didn't sound convinced.

"What were you aiming at?" Natasha asked, giving the room another quick scan before giving Tony her full attention.

"Far corner," Tony answered, without looking up. "JARVIS, I'm going to want the security feeds for this section queued up on my mainframe for the past hour. Also, add the footage from outside the storage locker where this equipment was kept for the last three hours. I want all the info on everyone who entered and exited that area, authorized or not."

"Yes, sir."

"You think someone tampered with it?"

"I'm not ruling it out."

"Because you're that good," Natasha said, reaching for one of the few arrows that remained and startled when Tony slapped her hand away. 

"Don't," he said quickly, his eyes having gone wide. "Don't touch that. I need... I need something to..."

Natasha shrugged off her jacket, leaving the t-shirt on beneath, and handing it to Tony, having finally seen what he had. "What is that?"

"Nothing I designed," Tony answered, holding up the arrow and taking a better look at the space just below the feathers.

Natasha bent closer and saw it for herself. "Looks like splitters or thorns," she said, remarking on the tiny yellow burrs on the notched end of the arrow that should not have been there.

Tony didn't say anything, but turned his eyes back to the rest of the arrows. He'd designed sixteen and they'd shot nine. Now at looked like at least two of them had been altered, the one that had veered off course and swung back at Barton and the one in Tony's hand. That left five to go over and hopefully find something that indicated who, and more importantly how, it had been done.

"JARVIS," Tony called, getting to his feet and picking up the quiver as he moved towards the door. "Get my diagnostic programs up and running in my office and do a head count. How many people are inside the enclave?"

_"Seven, sir."_

"Enclave?" Natasha asked, eyebrow raised as she followed behind Tony.

"I have to call it something," Tony said defensively. "The Super-Secret Hangout didn't sound professional."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because... boomerangs.


	2. Part 2

As Natasha and Tony headed up to his office to drop off the items and begin the examination, Steve and Clint were just arriving at the infirmary, where not only was Bruce waiting for them, but Maria as well. The infirmary was really that in name only, it was actually just an offshoot of one of the smaller labs Tony had constructed; the one Bruce regularly worked in. It had become quickly apparent that they would need some kind of treatment room for injuries, just given what they did on a daily basis. The room was well stocked and Tony had talked about hiring a full time physician, but it was still early in the developmental stage. For now they mostly treated one another with Bruce becoming the de facto go-to guy.

"Wow," Bruce said as he saw them come off the elevator. "Wow," he repeated as they finally made it inside the room. By that time Clint had already admitted defeat and was letting Steve support a good portion of his weight and had been half dragged into the room. "How did this happen?" Bruce asked, motioning them towards one of the examination tables. "And shouldn't we call a real doctor? I'm not an MD, you all know that, right?"

"I'll call for one from SHIELD," Maria said, phone already in hand as she dialed up HQ.

"Near as I can gather," Steve said as he steered Clint across the room, "Tony's tech backfired. Or swung back. I'm still a little vague on the details."

"Yeah, sorry if I'm not very talkative," Clint huffed out as Steve helped him up onto the table. "Thanks."

Bruce snapped on a pair of gloves and as gently as he could began to examine the wound. 

"Collar bone's snapped," Clint told him. He didn't need an exam for that one. He'd done it before and felt the bone break this time. "Everything else feels fine, but we need to get this thing out before it starts to clot."

"That's a pleasant thought," Maria said dryly.

"Is this metal?" Bruce asked.

"Yep," Clint said, swallowing hard and starting to feel nauseous.

"Are you crazy about this shirt?" Bruce said, taking out a pair of scissors. "Because I think it has to go first."

"I'm going to go see if Tony needs --" Steve started to say, already at the door when he was interrupted.

"Wait," Clint called out as Bruce already began cutting his shirt free. "We're going to need you for this. I can't... and I don't think... You're going to have to take this out for me."

"You're serious?"

"Yes," Clint answered, only slightly exasperated. The pain was getting the better of his already short temper. "You'll need to twist off the tip before you yank it out. It's detachable, but it's on pretty tight."

"About that," Bruce said, what was left of Clint's shirt now in his hands, "does he have to remove the arrowhead first? Can't we just pull it out without..."

By then, everyone was behind him, staring at his back, and Clint could only assume the worst.

"No, it has to come off," Clint said, trying to turn his head enough to see their faces and not at all happy with what he was seeing. "It's small, but it's barbed. The backend is barbed. It'll do more damage on the way out than it did going in."

When no one said anything, just continued to stare, Clint got it.

"It's not through, is it?"

"No," Steve answered, as Bruce and Maria could only shake their heads in response.

"How far in is it?" Clint barked, even though he didn't mean to. It felt like it had gone all the way through. It felt like it was on fire. "Can you tell?"

"It's... it's nearly out," Bruce said.

"There's a clearly defined..." Maria started to say, but trailed off with a grimace.

"Mound," Steve finished for her. It was as good of a description as he could give.

"Then you have to push it through first," Clint said in a rush as he snapped his head forward.

Maria immediately turned away and walked across the room, knowing this wasn't going to be pretty. Bruce looked ill. Steve was the only one that seemed to really get it. He just nodded and was ready to do what had to be done. And unfortunately, this had to be done.

"How long for that doctor?" Bruce asked Maria, obviously hoping to get out of this entirely.

"He's leaving soon, but with traffic in the city...."

"Bruce," Steve said, already in operational mode, "grab hold of his right elbow, so he doesn't move, and brace his lower back. When you're ready, Clint, let me know and we'll do this."

"Wait," Bruce said, having moved into his position but holding up his hands, "do you want some kind of pain killer or anything?"

"No," Clint said, shaking his head adamantly. His right hand was resting in his lap and his left was already wrapped tight around the edge of the table. "I want my head clear."

"Can I help?" Maria asked.

"Will you hand me some gauze?" Bruce asked, and Maria immediately began digging through the indicated drawer.

"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Go," Clint said, shutting his eyes and turning his head away as Steve pushed the arrow through. He may have said something, probably something foul, as his eyes momentarily stung with tears. It hurt incredibly but Clint knew that it would be the worst of it.

"That's good," Bruce said, already wiping up the blood. "That's enough. It's done. Let's not do that again, okay?"

"Clint?" Steve said, growing concerned as he noticed that all the color had drained from his face.

Maria didn't say anything, just grabbed hold of the nearest trash bin and thrust it into Clint's still good left hand, while simultaneously tugging on Steve's arm to pull him out of the line of fire. No sooner than she had, Clint retched up the remains of his lunch.

"That shouldn't happen again," Clint said, putting the bin down and taking the wet cloth Bruce offered up a moment later. "Sorry."

"Perfectly understandable," Bruce said.

"Do you need a minute?" Steve asked. Clint shook his head sharply, but kept his eyes down for a moment longer. "Are you sure?" Steve repeated.

"Just do it already."

"Reconsidering those meds?" Bruce asked, and Steve let out a short laugh as he wrapped the arrowhead with gauze in order to remove it without cutting himself in the process.

"I am," Clint admitted after a moment, initially misinterpreting both of their attitudes. He was glad he'd paused, because it only took a moment to realize that Bruce wasn't making fun of him, he just had a slightly dark sense of humor. And Steve, well, it hadn't taken long to learn that the man simply laughed when he was uncomfortable. He hoped they'd be as charitable as he was being, Clint's own temper was on fine display given the circumstances. Of course, they'd had a lot of practice dealing with him lately, so they probably knew to ignore it. They usually did and he was grateful for that. "Maybe I can get a double dose," he said, turning his head at the sound of the elevator's ding. "Quick. Before Tony decides to help." 

"He's done enough for one day," Bruce said with a smile.

Steve struggled with the task for a moment, being extremely gentle so as not to cause any more damage, but finally he felt the end move. "Almost..."

There was an audible snap and a hiss and a whoop of an alarm.

"...done," Steve finished, looking around and feeling confused, even a little foggy.

"Wha--?" Bruce started to ask, the only one besides Steve to get anything out at all.

It all seemed to happen so slowly. Clint, still somewhat supported by Steve, went completely slack. Maria sucked in a breath of air before collapsing to the floor. And Bruce, unable to get more than half a word out, fell over immediately after Maria.

As it had happened, the doors to the lab slid shut and locked.

As it had happened, Tony and Natasha had run forward.

Steve, still standing, was momentarily shocked. Gently, he laid Clint back on the table and went to check on Maria and Bruce.

"What happened?" Tony yelled through the glass partition.

Steve looked up and saw him speaking, but couldn't hear the words he was saying. The extra glass wall that had engulfed them as part of a security measure was too thick. He just shook his head and shrugged, hoping Tony got the message, before pointing to his ear.

"JARVIS," Tony said, "patch through a relay from this point into the infirmary. Can you hear me now, Steve?"

"Yes," Steve answered. "I don't know what happened," he continued, still feeling a little light headed himself and more than a little lost. "They just passed out. I think there was something inside the arrow. I heard it break but..."

"It was tampered with," Tony said, shaking his head and trying to think of what to do next.

"Clint didn't say that," Steve returned. "He thought it malfunctioned."

"Doesn't matter right now," Tony said, they'd have plenty of time to argue later. "What was inside of it? Was it a liquid or a gas?"

"Okay," Steve sighed, willing to let it go for the time being. He went back to Clint's side and examined the part he'd removed and found, imbedded in the gauze he'd used to protect himself, the remains of a glass vile. "Must have been a gas. I don't see anything here," he said, bringing what he'd found over to the window for Tony to take a closer look.

"Who got sick?" Natasha asked, pointing at the waste basket.

"Clint."

"Check his hands," Natasha said, and her voice had a rarely heard edge to it. "The thumb and first two fingers on his left hand."

"Carefully," Tony urged.

"Want to tell me what I'm looking for?" Steve asked, beginning to get annoyed. "No, wait. Found it. Looks like yellow burs."

Steve looked up and was alarmed to see that Natasha and Tony were talking, but he could no longer hear them.

"JARVIS," Steve called out. "What happened to the relay?"

_"It's been turned off, Captain Rogers."_

"What the..." Steve said, moving back to the window and slapping it to get their attention.

"What?" Tony's voice came through, loud and clear again via the internal speakers.

"Don't do that again," Steve demanded. "This isn't..."

"We're not trying to keep things from you," Natasha said, talking over him.

"...a game. Whatever you know or suspect, I want to hear it. Right now."

"We don't know anything," Tony stressed.

"You knew I'd find splinters. You knew it was rigged. You don't think we could have used that information beforehand?" Steve asked.

"We didn't know," Natasha said, for once in perfect agreement with Tony. "We were just making guesses. That's why we were coming here."

"This isn't getting us anywhere, Steve," Tony said, completely serious.

"You're right," he agreed, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. He was frustrated and annoyed, but Tony was right. They could yell at one another later. "What do I do? What should I do?"

"See that monitor?" Tony said, pointing out the one he needed. "Slide it over here and I'll show you how to run it."

Steve did as Tony asked and let him walk him through the program Tony wanted open, one that would start analyzing the air in the room and hopefully isolate whatever it was that had triggered the biohazard alarms. After that he had Steve bag up the arrowhead, gauze and vile in separate containers.

"What about..." Steve asked, pointing at the arrow still stuck in Clint's chest.

"It has to be removed," Natasha said, shaking her head and looking uneasy.

"What if they did something else?" Tony asked, clearly worried that they were potentially making another mistake.

"So we let him bleed out?" Natasha asked, but she no longer sounded as calm or collected as she'd been before. The emotion still hadn't crept into her face. Steve and Tony could both see how close it was.

"It should stay until we know what we're dealing with," Tony reasoned. "He's not going to bleed out, Natasha."

"That's not acceptable," Natasha returned, shaking her head and glancing at Clint's still unconscious form. "No. No, Steve, take it out and start..."

"Do not touch it," Tony said, louder and more adamant.

"...patching him up. Now. He'll go into shock if you don't hurry."

"He'll be fine," Tony countered. "You could be doing more damage --"

"Both of you, stop it!" Steve yelled.

"Why are you yelling?" Bruce asked, still on the floor and slowly beginning to sit up. "What's going on?"

"Stay still until your head clears," Steve advised, crossing over to him. By the time he'd squatted down at Bruce's side, Maria had begun to stir as well. "How do you feel?"

"Like I hit my head," Maria offered with a wan smile.

"I think that's because you did," Steve said. "Sorry. It all happened before I could warn you."

"What happened exactly?" Bruce asked, rubbing his eyes in an effort to regain focus.

"I'm not really sure."

"Barton, no!" Tony called out, but too late.

As he'd said it, the three other people in the room had heard a grunt, which was immediately followed by the clatter of metal as the arrow hit the ground nearby. Clint, confused and in pain, had woken up and ripped the arrow out on his own and was attempting to staunch the blood flow with nothing more than his hand.

"A little... help," he said, sounding weak. "Please."

Steve jumped up and, picking up some bandages along the way, "Why'd you do that?"

"Why'd you leave it in?" Clint shot back at him, dropping back against the table and looking exhausted as Steve began to tend to the wound on his own.

"Tony thinks it might have been altered," Steve answered.

As they spoke, Bruce had managed to get to his feet and was in the process of giving Maria a hand up.

"Bruce," Tony called out. "Bag that arrow and turn off the alarm, will you?"

"Wait... what's this? What's..."

"It's a safety measure," Tony answered, knowing what Bruce's concern was without him having to finish the sentence. "Something triggered the biohazard alarms. It locked up the lab."

"In here?" Maria asked, looking disturbed. "What triggered it? Should we have masks or..."

"It's probably too late for that," Bruce said, looking around the room. "How come you never told me that I was essentially working in a cage?"

"It's not like that," Tony said, shaking his head. "It's for bio-containment only. Steve could probably kick his way out if he wanted. But don't do that. We need to know what this thing is first and limit exposure."

"Not to interrupt," Steve said, "but I could use a hand here."

"Right," Bruce sighed, joining him at Clint's side. "Well, hey. It's out."

"Guys, you might want to stand back," Clint said, his whole face having turned the color of sour milk.

Steve quickly moved away, turning towards Maria who gave him a tight-lipped smile. Bruce managed to get the trash bin back into Clint's hands, just in time for him to wretch up whatever had been left in this stomach.

"How many times is that?" Natasha asked, and without bothering to look up, Clint held up two fingers, knowing she'd been asking him specifically. "And no one else is vomiting?"

"What the hell is going on?" Clint asked, still feeling queasy.

"Yeah, I'd kind of like to know that myself," Bruce seconded.

"The arrow didn't just malfunction," Steve said, still facing away from them, as for the first time in a very long time his own stomach felt uneasy. "It was rigged. Likely rigged to misfire and definitely rigged with some kind of chemical inside of it. Did I leave anything out?"

"The splinters," Natasha said, pointing to Clint's right hand.

Clint peered down at his thumb. "When did that happen?"

"Okay," Bruce said, taking a deep breath. "Maria, do you know how to take a blood pressure reading?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he said, nodding as he began to riffle through the nearest drawer. "Start a chart. There's a machine in the corner there. Take Steve's and then yours and write down the results. Pulses too. I'm going to get whatever this is out of Clint hand, and stitch him up, then we'll take our measurements. Are you already analyzing... whatever this is?" Bruce asked, turning his attention to Tony.

"Steve already started the initial programs," Tony assured him.

"Good," Bruce said, nodding his head. "When I'm done here, I'll start on that but I could probably use some help."

"Jane's in the building," Tony said, nodding along with him. "I'll set her up in the adjacent lab. She's not a biologist, but hey... we'll take what we can get."

"If this is more important," Clint said, "I think --"

"No," Natasha interrupted. "No, Barton. You get patched up first. End of argument."

"That is not how that works," Clint fired back at her, and just as quickly the tension between the returned. "You don't just get to have your way and end all discussion. If Bruce can figure this thing out, I don't want to be the one holding him up." 

"We don't have time for this," Steve argued.

"I agree," Bruce said. "Clint, it'll just take a minute. And it'll give me time to... time to think. Really. We're already exposed and I'd feel better, especially since this is airborne, if we sewed up the hole in your chest and back first."

"Fine," Clint relented, refusing to look Natasha's way as he let Bruce get to work.

"JARVIS," Tony said. "Can you ask Dr. Foster to join us?"

_"Right away, sir,"_

Maria and Steve, having finished with their initial screenings, moved back across the room in an effort to help Bruce who had already made quick work of stitching up Clint.

"Anyone got an extra shirt or... anything?" Clint asked, starting to feel a little exposed.

"I think there are some smocks," Bruce offered, already knowing Clint was going to turn them down. He didn't look like the type who enjoyed trips to the hospital.

"Here," Steve said, already pulling off the plaid button-up he'd been wearing over his t-shirt.

"Yeah," Clint said, taking it with his still good left hand. "This isn't going to look like I'm playing dress-up at all."

"It may be a little big," Steve conceded with a laugh.

"No, it's fine. Thanks," Clint said, realizing that he probably sounded ungrateful. Which he wasn't. Slowly, he put his now useless right arm through the rolled up sleeve, reluctantly asking for help with the other side.

"I think it's more than just your collar bone," Bruce said, helping him into the sling as soon as Clint, with Maria's help, had finished buttoning the shirt. "I'm going to bandage your arm into place, just to be safe."

"Sure, why not," Clint sighed. All the stickers had been removed and he hoped with it the last of the fretting over him was done. At least he hoped it was.

As Bruce had begun working on the terminal, Maria took Clint's blood pressure and pulse, both of which she stated were a little high. Natasha, at that announcement looked as if she was about to say something, but Clint stared her down. He knew she was worried, Clint was honestly a little worried himself, but she couldn't do this now. They couldn't do this now or ever again for that matter. A point she conceded by giving him a tiny nod as she looked away.

The next moment, the elevator arrived, bringing Pepper and Jane.

"There's a SHIELD agent here," Pepper said, clearly worried. "He says Agent Hill called him. What's going on?"

"JARVIS, tell the doc at the door he's not getting in. No one gets in until we know what happened," Tony said, momentarily ignoring Pepper's question.

_"At once, sir."_

"Ladies," Tony said, "we've got a situation here. Slight accident on the range followed by what looks to be a very deliberate poisoning. Some type of gas..."

"It's synthetic," Bruce interjected.

"...some kind of synthetic gas has been introduced into our lovely infirmary here and we need your help. Both of your help," Tony added, "but specifically, Dr. Foster, if you could lend us your expertise."

"This isn't exactly my specialty," Jane said, frowning as she shook her head, but not unwilling to help.

"No, but it is Bruce's," Tony said as he gestured towards the adjoining lab. "And science is science. I'm sure you'll pick it up. Piece of cake."

"You know," Jane began, her eyes momentarily lighting up before she stopped herself, and with a quick glance at Bruce, turned and pulled Tony off towards the elevator. "I may know someone that... she might be able to help, if we could patch her in."

After that, and with the ample cover of Natasha filling Pepper in on all the details, the rest of Jane and Tony's conversation was unintelligible to the four of them still locked inside. Once they'd finished, Tony showed Jane to her new workspace next door.

"All right," Tony said, clapping his hands together and getting everyone's attention. "I'm going to start dismantling the remaining arrows. Natasha, if you'd be so kind as to help me go through footage..."

"Of course."

"Great," Tony said. "Pepper, I'm going to need someone, and by someone I mean you, to trace the route this tech took. In and out of my workshop. Parts. People. Everything. You can do that, can't you?"

"Sure," she said with a tight smile, not because of the task at hand but because of the strain of what was happening around her. She didn't like this. Tony was being too mellow, too even keel, which could only mean that this was a horrifically messed-up situation.

"If you need anything, let JARVIS know, and if he can, he will do it," Tony assured the four of them still stuck inside the lab, before walking swiftly to the elevator with Pepper and Natasha in tow.

Steve didn't answer, none of them did. They knew, like Pepper did, that this was serious. And that it was seriously messed-up. But there was nothing any of them, aside from Bruce, could do about it now.

They could only wait it out.


	3. Part 3

When the three of them arrived in Tony's office, the first thing he did was sit heavily in his chair.

"Okay, here's the problem," Tony said as soon as he'd taken a moment to gather his thoughts. 

"Someone got into the Tower and is essentially screwing with us," Natasha supplied before he'd had a chance to continue. "Because, the way I see it, if they can get in here, mess with your tech, poison our team, then they could have just killed us in our beds and been done with it."

Tony nodded in agreement. It was what he'd thought himself.

"Do we know whom?" Pepper asked, more concerned now than before.

"We do not," Tony admitted, "but how long of a list can it be? Who has the funding? Who has the skills?"

"Not everyone sees you as saviors after what happened in New York, Tony," Pepper countered, shaking her head.

"SHIELD has plenty of enemies and Loki had Barton round them all up," Natasha added. "Factions that previously had no contact, no reason to work together, did and still do now. The list is longer than you think."

"No," Tony said, shaking his head slowly. "I don't think it is. I think... this is personal. This is someone with a personal vendetta."

"Then it's either about you or Barton," Natasha said firmly. "It was his weapons and your design. Everyone knows you, Tony. They'd have known you'd be there to watch your tech in action."

"You're forgetting another possibility," Tony said.

"Which is?"

"You."

"Me?" Natasha asked, clearly confused by his train of thought. 

"Best way to get to you is through Barton, princess," Tony said, shaking his head as if it was common knowledge. "Loki knew it. Good chance all those other little minions of his found out for themselves."

Natasha didn't deny it, which in and of itself was an admission of sorts. She'd told Clint as much. When he'd been taken, she hadn't been herself. It had messed her up more than she had expected. A lot more than she thought it could.

"Okay," she said, "but if we're thinking along those lines... Pepper. If someone was to try and get to me through Clint, then... then they'd get to Pepper through you."

"I'm not sure..." Pepper started to say, wondering where Natasha thought she'd get enemies like that from.

"She's right," Tony said quickly, shaking his head and hating the thought. "Let's start pulling together lists of everyone we've wronged and I'll crosscheck them with companies and people who have the means to make this happen."

"Should we contact SHIELD?" Pepper asked.

"Agent Hill already did," Tony replied as if that matter was closed. "But... let's try and keep this in house for now. For as long as we can. Agreed?" 

"Yes," Natasha answered, knowing it was directed more towards her than Pepper.

"Good. So, Pepper, start tracking," Tony continued. "Natasha, start that list. I'll just be carefully undoing what I hope isn't a bomb of some sort," he said, indicating the remaining arrows they'd left on his desk. "That should keep us all busy for awhile."

"Okay," Pepper said, still uneasy but feeling better knowing she had something to do, but she was the only one of them to move.

"Do we tell them?" Natasha asked still standing in place, a question that halted Pepper in her tracks.

Tony let out a sigh and shook his head as he decided. Finally, "No," escaped from his lips. "Let's see where this gets us first."

Natasha gave him a curt nod, as if she approved, and got to work as Pepper turned away, unhappy and distressed.

Back in the infirmary, everyone was quiet. After cleaning up the mess there wasn't much to say. For one thing, no one wanted to distract Bruce. For another, none of them really had much to say. Clint and Maria, while able to work together when they had to, didn't get along and had virtually nothing in common outside of SHIELD. In Clint's view, Maria was the epitome of every single person who had ever looked down on him. She had graduated high school early and left college with not one degree, but two. She'd worked hard, Clint had no doubt, but she'd also grown up surrounded by affluence and indulged with every advantage he'd been denied. 

Some would call that jealousy, and they'd be right. It had become a lifelong struggle not to be jealous of people like Maria, and Tony, and hell, even Thor who grew up as a god. He liked to think he'd outgrown that particular emotion, but Maria Hill always managed to unconsciously, he thought at least it wasn't on purpose, push those particular buttons. And, when he was being generous, Clint did recognize that she'd abandoned all of that for a life of service in SHIELD, which was commendable. She'd probably had struggles, obstacles he couldn't imagine, which she'd not only overcame but persevered. Certainly she could have done other things with her life, but this is what she chose. 

Still, he found her humorless and rigidly adherent to rules and regulations, which in his opinion was practically unforgivable. Personally, he couldn't like her, but Clint did have a grudging respect for her. Maria did her job and mostly she was good at it. Mostly. He didn't have to like her.

"How's everyone doing over there?" Jane asked across the intercom system. 

From where she was sitting they couldn't see her directly. The lab she was in was walled off from the infirmary, but Bruce had asked JARVIS to set up a video feed which allowed them to virtually communicate face-to-face via monitor.

"I feel fine," Steve answered, whatever uneasiness he'd felt earlier having passed completely.

"It's a little warm," Maria said, "but I think the AC cut off so... What about you, Barton? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," Clint answered, even though his stomach was still rolling in protest.

"She's right," Bruce said, crossing the room to get a better look at him. "You look... pale."

"I lost some blood," Clint insisted. "That's it." Bruce looked at the bio-hazard bags they'd thrown all of the clean-up supplies into as if he hadn't really considered that before. "I know my limits," Clint continued, hoping to reassure him and hoping his voice didn't sound as harsh to the other man's ears as they had to his own.

Apparently, he'd succeeded, since Bruce gave him a nod and went back to discussing something science-y with Jane, and the rest of them lapsed back into silence.

"Hey, guys," Bruce called out several long minutes after having finished talking with Jane. "Let's get another set of blood pressure readings and pulses. And, just to be safe, I want to get everyone's temperatures."

The outcome was not reassuring.

Steve was still perfectly normal, albeit with a slightly raised temperature, but even that had been within the prescribed normal range. Clint's blood pressure and pulse were still relatively high, which could be attributed to his wound, but his temperature was also inside of normal. Bruce's own readings were elevated from the last time he'd recorded them, even though he didn't technically have a fever, he was right on the cusp. Maria's were the worse. Her blood pressure and pulse were the highest and so was her temperature.

Jane looked uneasy when she heard the results.

"Is there anything you've been inoculated for that maybe Maria and Bruce haven't?" Steve asked, turning to Clint.

"If there's a vaccination for it, SHIELD has given it to me," he answered. "Field agents are given bi-annual health checkups and they review all our records so, I should be current."

"Everyone else is on an as-needed basis," Maria filled in. "All the major vaccines, I've done, but those don't include smallpox or anthrax."

"We'd be sicker if it was anthrax," Bruce said with a shake of his head. "And... I don't think I've had a flu shot in at least ten years."

"Mine was a lot longer ago than that," Steve admitted.

"I'm not sure that will matter," Bruce said with a faint smile. "I don't think this is the flu. Here," he said, calling them over.

Steve and Maria crossed the room. Clint made an attempt to get up, but as soon as he'd tried the whole room tipped precariously to one side.

"I'm going to sit this one out," Clint called out as he laid back again and shut his eyes. "Just... just talk loud, okay?"

"You sure you're okay?" Bruce asked.

"Peachy," Clint answered, draping his good arm across his eyes.

"Okay," Bruce yielded, sitting down behind the monitor and turning his attention back to Maria and Steve. "So, we've already determined this is synthetic."

Jane looked at them through the monitor and nodded in agreement, picking up her cue to continue. "It affected each of you first by knocking you unconscious."

"I wasn't," Steve said.

"We think the serum that's now a part of you, protected you," Bruce answered. "The rest of us weren't so lucky."

"Since it was released," Jane said, "it's mutated. The strain we captured first has completely changed, but the good news is that it's growing weaker."

"And the bad news?" Maria asked.

"We'll need blood work to be certain," Jane said, shaking her head and looking uneasy, "but it may be just the airborne strain that is growing weaker. Your stats all indicate that you've been infected with something... that your bodies are fighting off some kind of infection. Tony is working on getting the air filters to scrub the room of the contaminant. Oh, and Clint?"

"Yeah," he hollered from across the room, still not moving.

"Those splinters weren't tainted."

"Outstanding," he returned dryly. "I was only poisoned once today. Thanks."

"Ignore --" Maria started to say, but was suddenly and overwhelming nauseous. The feeling was so strong, her knees buckled and, in order to stay upright, she reached out and braced herself against Bruce's shoulder.

"Whoa there," Steve said, as he and Bruce just managed to keep her on her feet.

"Sorry," she muttered as Steve slipped an arm around her waist and led her to a nearby chair. "I don't know what happened. I was fine and then..."

"Give yourself a minute," Bruce said, having followed them over with an unopened bottle of water.

"Bruce," Jane said through the intercom, "I've got a call I need to take. I'll be back online in a few minutes. Start getting that blood when you can."

"Will do," he returned, his eyes darting from Maria to Clint. Clint was sitting up again, but looked worse than before. Both he and Maria were now chalky white and sweating, which was worrying enough. 

More worrying was the fact he also felt a little off balance.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter chapter. The rest is almost complete, so I'm pretty comfortable posting daily. Enjoy!

Jane didn't just have any caller on the line, she had one of the best cellular-biologists in the country on the line. Of course, the problem wasn't the what, but the who, and as she'd been informed by Tony, and Pepper, and Natasha, she was under no circumstances to let Bruce know that Dr. Betty Ross had agreed to help. Because, if she did, he'd be very, very unhappy and maybe turn a little green, but definitely not with envy.

Bruce had been very clear that he didn't want to see or talk to her, not yet. He wasn't ready. For her part, Betty had been understanding and passive about the whole situation to a degree that Jane could not fathom. Jane was headstrong and sometimes reckless when it came to getting what she wanted. Betty seemed like a different breed of person altogether. She wasn't weak, that was certain, she was just strong in ways Jane hadn't realized a person could be strong. It was all patience and forbearing, which again, weren't Jane's things.

Before their conversation ended, Pepper arrived. She stopped first in front of the infirmary windows and talked briefly with Steve before heading into Jane's lab.

"Are we on?" she asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"No," Jane answered, knowing what she meant. "I have Dr. Ross on the line so I thought it would be better to cut the feed."

"Good call," Pepper sighed, looking at the video monitor and giving Betty a smile. "How's it going?"

"I'll know more when I can get those samples," Betty said, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. "It looks similar to meningitis, but that's never been airborne. If that's the case, it will affect their nervous systems. Unfortunately, this is so new, all we can do is wait and see."

"It's definitely manmade," Jane added. "There can't be that many labs can do this."

"There aren't," Betty agreed. "At least not that we know. Private labs are another matter."

"Question," Pepper said, putting on her serious face, "do either of you have contacts inside of OsCorp?"

"Why?" Betty asked. "I thought they were mostly into engineering. Do you think they can help?"

"They have a bio program that they like to keep low key," Pepper said, her eyes still down cast, "but that's not why I'm asking."

"You think they're responsible for this?" Jane asked, catching on.

Pepper nodded. "Those splinters weren't just decorative. They were trackers of some sort. The idea is that they embed in the target and then... well... it's not something Tony designed but he recognized the work."

"I don't know anyone in the company," Betty said, shaking her head and looking, if anything, more concerned than before. "Not personally."

"Neither do I," Jane answered, to which Pepper gave her a hard look and then just nodded as she made to leave.

Jane realized that Pepper thought she was lying, but she couldn't figure out why. Jane really didn't know anyone who worked at OsCorp. Jane hardly knew anyone who wasn't already inside Stark Tower at this very moment. The only exceptions were Betty, who was technically right there, Eric Selvig, who was at SHIELD HQ and...

"Oh my God," Jane said, catching Pepper's attention. "Darcy."

Steve and Bruce watched as Pepper and Jane walked quickly towards the elevator together without bothering to tell them what was going on.

"What do you think they're not telling us?" Steve asked.

"I don't know," Bruce said slowly. "Let's find out. JARVIS," he called out, looking up the ceiling because, for some reason, he felt it was the polite thing to do. "Who was Dr. Foster talking to on the phone?"

_"I've been instructed not to reveal that information, Dr. Banner."_

"To me or to any of us?"

_"To you, sir."_

"So tell me then," Steve piped up. "Who was on the phone?"

_"I'm afraid I can not reveal that information at the moment, Captain Rogers."_

"Hey, JARVIS," Clint said, sitting upright again but still obviously queasy. "Can you tell us roughly how long we've got left before this thing kills us?"

_"I do not have that information, Mr. Barton."_

"Since when is he a mister?" Maria asked with a laugh, her head still in her hands and obviously joking.

But JARVIS didn't quite get rhetorical.

_"Since Mr. Barton plans on leaving SHIELD, I felt it appropriate to no longer refer to him as Agent."_

Everyone tensed.

Maria looked up and met Clint's eyes to complete and utter silence.

"Well, shit," Maria finally said, shaking her head. "Now it makes sense. Now... Shit. How long? How long have you... You know, never mind."

Clint looked away first and Maria dropped her head back into her hands in what looked like disgust. Bruce, as quietly as he could, slid back into his chair behind his monitor, but Steve had nowhere to go. Instead he looked Clint's way until eventually catching the other man's eye and began to make what he hoped were subtle motions in Maria's direction; urging him basically to say something, anything really, that might lesson the tension in the room.

Sighing, and before Steve could cross the room and make him apologize, Clint wiped his good hand across his face.

"Listen, Hill... Maria," Clint said, trying to sound sincere, "this isn't personal."

"Of course it's personal," she snapped. "How could it be anything else?"

"I just mean it's my business. Not yours."

"Your business is my business," Maria returned, getting to her feet and moving closer to where Clint was now sitting up on his own. "That's how this works. I trusted you. I've done everything I can to try and --"

"I don't need you to do anything for me," he said, sliding unsteadily onto his feet to meet her face-to-face.

"Oh, I know it," she returned. "You've made that very clear."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you both should just take a step back and calm down," Steve intervened, taking several quick strides and physically placing himself in the space still left between the two of them. He wasn't sure where this was headed, but he didn't like the level of aggression in either of their voices. He'd only meant for Clint to apologize, he hadn't meant for this to happen. Not at all.

"I am calm," Maria said, everything about her in complete contrast to the words she'd just spoken.

"Answer me," Clint pushed, ignoring Steve entirely.

"Your attitude. Your avoidance. Your contempt," Maria answered, crossing her arms and squaring off against him. "Since the day Director Fury sat us down --"

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I've got a mountain of paperwork that screams otherwise."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Clint fired back her.

"It's not. It's a documented fact. A well documented fact."

"Well, thank goodness you're here to save the day."

"Someone needs to save you from yourself."

"Not your problem."

"No," Maria agreed. "I guess it isn't. Not anymore. You're out, right? Just like that. After everything that was done for you. After everything that's still being done for you... that's it. You're just running away."

"Done for me?" Clint yelled. "What have you done for me, Hill? What?"

"I defended you! I stood up for you!"

"You defended yourself. You stood up for me because if you didn't it would reflect badly on your position."

"Now who's the liar?" she asked, moving closer and forcing Steve to turn and block her progress. 

"Go to hell."

"Counter Intelligence said you weren't onboard with SHIELD and they were right. And I defended you. I filed a complaint..."

"I told you not to do that."

"... I got that piece of shit Campbell removed from his post. Not that I'm sorry, but for what? They were right about you."

"You think the Avengers have it out for SHIELD?" Clint asked, his voice bitter and full of doubt.

"Of course not," Maria said, "but that's not the point. They knew you were on your way out the door, they didn't know where, but they knew it was true. And I swore they were wrong. I put my integrity on the line for you and you made me out to be a liar."

"I didn't make you do anything," Clint said quietly, dropping his voice and lowering his eyes. "And if you think that justifies --"

"No, it doesn't, but I've got a better idea of why they did it," she fired back at him. "Damn it, don't you understand? Don't you get it? Open your eyes, Barton. I thought you were smarter than that. That you'd see it. But you can't, can you? All you can see is your own grief..."

"Don't talk to me about grief!" Clint yelled, as she continued on.

"...crashing down around you..."

"Shut up!"

"... instead of the real, bigger problems that lay ahead!"

"Enough!" Steve bellowed, and both of them stopped cold, flushed and embarrassed that he had to shout them down. "That's enough," Steve continued, looking both of them briefly in the eyes. It had gone too far, and whether it was the virus or just their own inability to get along, it didn't matter. It had to end. "Stand down."

Clint glared at Steve for a moment before reluctantly giving him a crisp nod and moving backwards to lean against the table he'd previously been laying on.

Maria didn't look quite as ready to comply.

"You can talk about this later," Steve said, turning towards Maria and lowering his voice. "We can all sit down, if you want, and talk this through. Only, not now. Now we've got... bigger problems."

Maria hadn't moved. Her eyes were still locked on Clint. Her arms were still crossed over her chest and her jaw was still firmly set. But before Maria could respond, Bruce surprised them all by letting out a sharp laugh.

"Bigger problems," he repeated once they'd all looked his way. "Yeah... yeah, I think we do."


	5. Part 5

"Why?"

"Why not?" Tony answered Natasha, shaking his head and looking from her to Pepper and then Jane. "I mean, there are a thousand answers to that question."

"Norman Oswald has no reason," Natasha returned, her face screwed up in a frown, extremely uneasy with this turn of events. "Yes, he's on SHIELD's radar but... What does this gain him?"

"Nothing," Tony admitted. "Absolutely nothing, other than getting under my skin. Which is more than enough. He doesn't need any other reason. This is the kind of thing the rich and eccentric do. Like a hobby."

"So you're all either out there 'saving the world'," Natasha said, complete with air quotes and a sarcastic lilt, "or else staging elaborate break-ins for fun?"

"What can I say?" Tony shrugged. "After awhile just spending money gets boring."

"You honestly think he'd go this far?" Pepper asked, clearly as unconvinced as Natasha but realizing at the same time that they had absolutely nothing else to go on. She'd reviewed all the tapes personally and there was no one on them that didn't belong.

"This is his work," Tony said, pointing down at the freshly dissected arrows. "Did he sign it? No. Did he leave a business card? No. But I know how he puts things together. How he has things put together. This is it. Can I prove it? No. Absolutely not. But I know it's his." Pepper dropped her gaze and began to rub the back of her neck. Jane shifted uneasily but remained quiet. Natasha alone continued to glare back at him, causing Tony to sigh. "I'm frustrated, too. I don't like this. I don't like that he somehow got in here but... Fuck, Barton said it. Rogers said it. You build a wall and people will want to see what's on the other side. They'll want over it. They'll want a challenge. It's practically human nature."

"But none of this gets anyone anywhere," Natasha argued. "How is this a challenge? No one threw down a gauntlet, they tried to kill --"

Natasha stopped herself and shook her head, unable to think about how close it had been. How close it might still be.

"No," Tony said, shaking his head. "Maim, yes. Murder, no. I've done all the math and given the tracking system in the splinters, the arrow was never meant to actually kill Barton. It hit right where it was designed to hit, which I'm sure hurt a hell of a lot, but he's still very much alive because of it."

"And the toxin?" Natasha asked, wondering how Tony was going to explain that away.

"It's not lethal," Dr. Ross interjected, her face visible on the nearby monitor. "It's still not pretty," she admitted once everyone was looking at her directly, "but it won't kill anyone. Near as I can tell their symptoms will get worse, but gradually dissipate. It'll peak and then deteriorate if my models are correct."

"If," Natasha said softly under her breath.

"How long?" Tony asked.

"A few hours should see the worst of it," Betty replied. "Expect fevers, nausea, confusion. It's very similar to meningitis or a really severe bout of flu, except it's clearly meant to temporarily incapacitate a target only, not kill one. It was probably an early stage military weapon."

"Except the US doesn't deal in nerve agents," Tony said.

"The US is hardly the only buyer," Jane sighed.

"Can't we let them out?" Pepper asked. "If it's temporary..."

"I wouldn't," Betty said, shaking her head. "It will degrade on its own, but until it's done, the rest of you are still vulnerable. Captain Rogers should be fine, so far his blood work indicates he hasn't been infected. The serum in his system counteracted the virus extremely quick."

"Well, small blessings, right?" Tony said with a laugh. "He won't get sick, but he'll still have to deal with the two that will."

"Three," Betty corrected.

"Pardon?"

"Bruce..." Betty began, hesitating over his name. "He's infected."

"He's not immune?" Tony asked, no longer even smiling a little bit.

"That can't be right," Natasha said, her eyes going momentarily wide with shock.

"But he has the same serum in his system as Steve does," Jane argued, clearly confused by this news. "Or close enough, doesn't he?"

"He doesn't," Betty said, answering Jane first. "It's similar but not the same and while it is slowing down the virus, it isn't doing it fast enough. Eventually it will catch up with him and effect him the same as it is Agents Barton and Hill. It will make Bruce just as sick, but the other guy won't have that problem so..."

"You're not saying --" Tony began, but the intercom cut him off.

"Tony," Steve said, his face all but obscuring the screen, "you may want to consider evacuating the Tower. Maybe the surrounding area as well. Soon."

"Absolutely not," Tony returned. "We won't need to. You keep him calm and I'm on my way."

"Tony, that's not --" Steve started, but Tony didn't let him finish, choosing to kill the feed.

"Pepper," Tony said, rushing his words, "get everyone out."

"But you just said --"

"What I had to say in case Bruce was listening," Tony finished for her. "It won't come to it, but to be safe, I want everyone that doesn't need to be here, gone. That includes you."

"I'm not leaving," Pepper said, shaking her head but going just the same to empty the building of its occupants.

"Natasha, can SHIELD help us here? At all?" he asked.

"Are you asking if they have tranquilizers that can take down the Hulk or are you asking if they might have a cure for this virus?"

"Both."

"Yes, they have the tranquilizers but we'd have to break quarantine to get them to him."

"Which we shouldn't do," Tony provided.

"Right," Natasha said. "And no, I know that SHIELD has nothing to counteract this virus. I've already confirmed it."

"Then get in touch with Fury directly and let him know what's happening. Oh, and tell him to stay away. We've got this."

"Yeah, that's going to happen."

"Tell him if he can't help then he can't come," Tony persisted. "He'll only panic people and that is the last thing we need."

"That... that might work," Natasha conceded, turning to go and do her part.

"Jane," Tony said, still talking in a rush of words, "your friend at OsCorp, how scrupulous is she?"

"She's..." Jane started to defend and then shook her head, "not very. What do you need?"

"Anything she can find out, and I mean it -- anything. We need information. Whatever she can get us, safely, have her do it. And get her out of there. Have her quit. Something. Anything. I'll take care of her later, I promise. I won't even ask for a resume, I already know her references."

"She's only an intern, but I'll see what she can do," Jane nodded, her phone already out as she stepped away.

"I'll keep working on an antidote," Betty said before Tony could ask. 

He gave her a nod and watched the line disconnect before heading for the elevator.

Tony had just reached for the correct floor when JARVIS chimed in.

_"Is that really wise, sir?"_

"You're right," Tony said, realizing that maybe he didn't want to be in an elevator just now. Just in case. "I'll take the stairs."

The lab appeared quiet as Tony came out of the stairwell, but as soon as Steve spotted him he was on his feet and waiting at the wall.

"How's it going?"

"How's it going?" Steve repeated incredulously.

"Your hearing is still intact," Tony returned. "That's good."

"We're all going to die. That's how it's going," Clint said, his voice a harsh laugh.

"No one is dying," Steve said, looking anxiously from Clint to Bruce, clearly concerned that the former's dark humor would affect the latter's restraint.

Tony didn't think he had to worry on that account. Bruce looked amused, not upset. But sick. Clearly not as sick as the other two locked in there with him, but getting there.

"Barton might," Maria mumbled under her breath, her head tucked into her arms, drawing Tony's attention back to what might be the actual problem. Under the best of circumstances, Barton and Hill were just civil to one another. Contained, fever-ridden and possibly hallucinating could prove challenging. Well, for Steve it might. Tony was fortunately on the other side of that dilemma.

"Hill's going to glare me to death," Clint taunted from where he sat up on the makeshift exam table nearest the glass wall enclosing them all. His head was tipped back and his eyes looked glassy, from what Tony could see he was really far gone.

"Does he ever stop?" Maria asked no one in particular.

"Or throw a punch," Clint continued, unabashed. "She might throw a punch at me. Heh. Anyone got a camera? That would be worth recording. Come on, Hill. This is your best chance. I've got a busted arm and a headache like no one's business. It's not going to get any easier than this."

"You are insufferable."

"And you're... I don't have a word for it," Clint mused, shaking his head momentarily as if he was lost. "Wait, I've got it. Worthless."

"Asshole."

"Not worthless," he corrected, ignoring her jibe altogether. "Redundant," he said, stressing all the syllables as if he'd just learned the correct pronunciation that day. "That was the word I was looking for. You are redundant."

"I don't think that word means what you think it means," Maria said with an uncharacteristic snort of laughter.

"How long have they been like this?" Tony asked, torn between amused and concerned.

"Not long," Steve answered. "Their last fight was... bad, but at least then they'd made sense. They took a sudden turn, their fevers both spiked and there is only so much we can do in here for either of them. They're both babbling and incoherent and then there is Bruce. Tony, if he gets sick like this..."

"We know."

"How do you know?" Bruce asked, having been listening to them and for the first time looking a little angry. "What do you know?"

"Lucky guess," Tony said, answering the first question. "And as far as what we know --"

"I know what words mean," Clint blurted out suddenly and loudly, wiping his good hand across his brow. "I know you think I'm..."

"Stupid?" Maria provided, her head finally up and appearing steadier than before.

"At least I'm not redundant," he fired back at her. "You're redundant. What do you even do, Maria? Ten damn years and I still don't know what the hell it is you actually do."

"Because all you care about is yourself."

"Besides the stuff someone else already does."

"I haven't even been with SHIELD ten years."

"Even if you had..." Clint started, trailing off with a long sigh as he'd evidentially spent the last of his energy.

All eyes were momentarily on Clint as his own eyes shut with a few mumbled words on his lips.

"Are we dying?" Maria asked curiously, turning her eyes back to Steve.

"No," he said firmly. 

"You're not," Tony assured her, but she didn't look convinced until she caught Steve's eye again. He gave her a crisp nod, which she returned before setting her head back into her arms. 

"It's deteriorating," Bruce provided after a pause. "But not fast enough."

"Can you hold on?" Tony asked, completely serious for once.

"I'm trying," Bruce shrugged, evidently uneasy. "I'm holding on but... it's close. He's close now. I'm not as bad as Clint and Maria but I'm getting there and I don't know what will happen when I do. I don't know what will happen if I take a sudden turn." Bruce let that sink in for both of them before continuing, "Now, stop holding back on us. What do you know, Tony?"

"It's not going to make you any happier," Tony said with a sigh.

"Being kept in the dark isn't either," Steve said with a hint of anger.

Tony gave them both a quick rundown of everything he knew, or thought he knew, about OsCorp's involvement. He gave them the projected prognosis, most of which Bruce had already guessed. He told them what they were doing, how they were still working on a vaccine, even if they thought the virus would run its course. As he finished, Natasha arrived.

"Fury's on his way," Natasha said.

"Worthless," Clint whispered just loud enough to be heard, but no one was quite certain what he was talking about, or if he was even talking to any of them.

"He needs water," Steve said, shaking off his own uneasiness and crossing the room to help the other man out. "And a hospital."

"I thought we were asking the good Director to stay put," Tony said, trying to pull Natasha's attention back to the problem at hand and away from the one neither of them could do anything about.

"Have you ever tried to tell Director Fury no?" she asked after half a beat, her eyes clearly reluctant to leave Clint. "But he is coming without a small army of reinforcements."

"Small victories," Tony allowed.

"She's burning up," Bruce said, having just checked Maria's temperature. "Crush up some ibuprofen and we'll put it in their water. We may need to start IVs to keep them hydrated."

"She's worthless," Clint continued to mutter. "If she'd have done her job..."

"Come on, Maria," Bruce said, trying to rouse her long enough to get some water into her system. "You need to drink this and then lay down."

As he spoke, Bruce took her gently by the arm, but in her altered state Maria flinched and half-rose from her chair as she pulled back in a hurry. Steve, seeing trouble, left Clint's side to help Bruce who, in his own shock, had stumbled backwards into the nearby desk.

"What are you doing?" Maria asked, her eyes wide as she swung her head from Bruce to Steve. "What is this?"

"You're okay," Steve tried to assure her as Bruce could do nothing more than slump into his own chair, suddenly exhausted. "We're helping."

"Captain Rogers," she said slowly. "Dr. Banner. I know you," she whispered, sounding relieved as she lowered herself back into her seat. "I'm sorry. I can't... think. I can't... I thought for a minute... I was sure..."

Tony watched a few minutes more as Steve tended to Maria, and Bruce pulled himself back together, before turning his attention back to Natasha and Clint and how they'd locked eyes on one another.

"You should have followed orders," Clint said evenly, his eyes never leaving Natasha's. She didn't even blink. "It would have been easier. Easier than this."

Tony started to say something, and then stopped, suddenly aware that Clint wasn't talking complete nonsense like he'd assumed. He was talking about the Helicarrier. He was talking about Loki and regret. He was talking about how he'd have rather died than lived through the aftermath.

Tony should have known Pepper was right; she always was. He only wished it hadn't taken this long to realize that.

"You should have just snapped my neck," Clint insisted, his voice a slow drawl.

"You think that would have been easy for me?" Natasha asked, indifferent to the fact that Tony was watching. Or that, given the set of his shoulders, Steve was certainly listening in as well.

"Kinder, then. It would have been kinder," Clint sighed, his face turned and pressed to the glass so that hers was the only face he saw. "But you're not kind, are you?"

"You know what I am."

"And you know what I am," he fired back at her, anger poorly masked with a laugh. "Weak and needy. I've always needed someone to love. Someone to love me. The problem is... I keep killing them off, don't I?"

"Clint," Natasha said, moving a few steps in his direction, her face softening for half a second before slipping right back into business mode. "You're sick."

"There's always a reason, isn't there?" he laughed back at her. "Always something so you can ignore everything I say."

Natasha seemed at a loss, and honestly, so was Tony. Steve and Maria were both obviously listening now but made no move to intervene, so that really only left Bruce.

"You are sick," Bruce said, the effort of crossing the room shown clear on his face, but he made it. Bruce slid up on the table next to Clint and handed him back his water bottle. "So is Maria. So am I. No one is ignoring you, but this isn't productive."

"Sorry, Doc, but I'm not feeling very productive."

"You can be," Bruce said, rubbing his eyes and beginning to struggle through the haze of an impending headache. "I'm betting you've got something hid in here. Something I might need. Really soon."

For the first time Clint looked truly pained as he screwed up his face in concentration and tried to focus.

"That's not a good idea," Clint finally said as he realized what it was Bruce was getting at.

"We may not have a choice."

"Bruce," Tony started, but he was quickly waved off.

"It may be the only way to control the other guy," Bruce reasoned.

"Steve did a pretty good job last time," Clint shrugged, waving his hand towards where Steve sat near Maria, both of whom were still observing the conversation with trepidation.

"There's a difference between me letting him out and him just..." Bruce said, trailing off with a sigh. "The more I fight, the worse it is. The worse he is."

"So why fight?" Tony asked as he stepped closer.

Bruce locked eyes with him, and Tony couldn't tell if he was angry or scared. Likely he was both. He thought they were all a little bit of both.

"If you know he's going to take over eventually it might be better to just let it happen now," Steve reluctantly agreed.

"Well?" Bruce asked, turning to Natasha to hear her opinion.

"Sometimes you have to let go of control in order to gain it."

"How very Zen of you," Tony whispered earning a quiet 'shut up' in return.

"How about it, Clint?" Bruce asked.

"This is how I see it going," Clint answered after a long pause, much of which was spent with his eyes shut. "I do have a bow stashed in here and I could try and tranq you now, but the dose is so high you'll probably go into cardiac arrest, hulk out and rip off my arm."

"Okay," Bruce said warily.

"Or," Clint continued, stopping again to regain his train of thought, "we can wait and I could try and tranq you later, but given all the variables like I can't stand-up and I have no use of my right arm, you will probably still hulk out and rip off my arm. I like you and I like my arm, so hell, why not? Let's just see if the other guy can be reasonable."


	6. Part 6

"I had my doubts, Stark, I really did," Fury sighed as he looked across the desk at the video feed being relayed from the lab, "but no more."

"Wow," Tony said, affecting surprise. "From you that means so much."

"You are out of your goddamn mind," the Director finished. "What in the hell were you thinking? What are you thinking? Exactly how is this," he continued to rant, pointing at the screen for emphasis, "a good idea?"

"Well, after carefully considering the alternatives..."

"There are two sick agents, my agents, locked in that lab. Rogers isn't even armed. What in the hell possessed you to convince Dr. Banner that this was a good idea?"

"For the record -- not just me."

Fury glared at him for a long moment before turning to look back at the screen.

"It's going great," Tony pushed. "So far."

"So far?"

"Sir," Natasha said, reluctant to step in but feeling she had to at this point, "it was the only option and Dr. Banner agreed."

"Can he break out?" Fury asked.

"Yes," Tony admitted. "But he won't."

"He won't," Fury repeated incredulously. "You're certain of that? You're willing to risk your home, your livelihood, on that?" he continued to press.

"We have to trust him," Tony answered. "I know you don't believe in trust, but I do. And it has to be earned and... You can see for yourself, it's fine. It's going fine."

Fury shook his head again but looked back to the screen.

"That's half your team in there," Fury pointed out, still wary.

"It is," Tony agreed, as if his point had been made for him.

"Out of your goddamn mind," he muttered once more under his breath as his good eye followed the Hulk's slow pace around the lab, still not quite believing what he was seeing.

"Sir, we have other issues," Natasha said, ready to move on. "Namely OsCorp."

"We'll never be able to prove it," Fury said with a shake of his head. "Unless you've come up with something new."

"Jane's friend..." Tony started, stalling on the name.

"Darcy Lewis," Pepper provided, her first contribution to the discussion so far. Like Director Fury, she was still in shock over the Hulk's sudden appearance. More than that, his relative tameness.

"That's the one," Tony continued, "she couldn't get much. As soon as Jane got her on the phone they escorted her off the premises. Suspicious, yes, but hardly an admission of guilt. Jane's on her way to bring her here."

"Have them meet us at the Helicarrier instead," Fury commanded. "We're all going to sit down for a nice long chat as soon as medical clears the lab."

Contrary to what Natasha had been told, Director Fury had arrived with half a dozen specialists to help analyze and treat the mystery toxin that had been exposed in the lab. So far they'd all agreed with Dr. Ross's findings and felt that in another hour, tops, the air scrubbers will have completed their job of and they'd be allowed in to treat those contaminated.

Not that they were clamoring to do that at the moment.

The Hulk had scared them away.

Maria was clearly the most uneasy with the situation, but had kept as calm as she could given the circumstances. Clint was amused and watched the other guy pace with a mixture of fascination and disbelief, still kind of convinced he was imagining the whole thing. Steve was handling it the best, and quite honestly thought in a lot of ways the Hulk was easiest to manage of the three.

From the start Steve had laid down the ground rules and the Hulk had complied.

The biggest problem so far had been space.

The Hulk was massive, but less so than when they'd last all fought together in New York. His head scraped the ceiling and his width limited his walking range, but he seemed to be handling it. A few times he'd pushed a table roughly out of the way, causing a racket, but it seemed more like nervous energy than actual rage.

And he moved continuously so it was a surprise to them all when he suddenly stopped and sniffed the air.

"Everything okay?" Clint asked because someone should.

The Hulk turned and stared hard at him, but Clint didn't balk. His fever had gone down, his head still ached but was clearer than it had been so he was no longer quite as out of control as he had been. Clint had enough wits about him to know he was walking a delicate line, but found he just couldn't help himself.

He was curious.

"Can you smell the stuff?" Clint asked, ignoring Maria's look of exasperation. "Like, in the air or on us?"

"In you," Hulk grunted in reply, jutting out his jaw in Clint's direction. "Faint now. Not like before."

"I'd hope so," Clint said with a small laugh.

"Hope," Hulk grinned, as if he got the joke. "Weak men hope. The Bannerman hopes."

"I wouldn't say Bruce is weak," Clint objected on reflex.

"He's not me."

"I'm not you, either," Clint returned and could see he wasn't the only one curious. Steve was paying careful attention. And the Hulk also seemed to want to engage them all in some fashion. "What does that make me?"

"You are Hawkeye."

"I am."

"He's the Captain," Hulk continued, wheeling around towards the other two. "That one I don't know."

"Hill," Maria said, her face a mask of indifference. "I'm called Hill."

"Hill is not afraid," Hulk asked, taking two massive steps in her direction but she didn't flinch.

"She's one of us," Steve said firmly, as if he'd broach no argument.

Clint would like to argue that point with him, but now was not the time. Now was really not the time.

Hulk seemed satisfied with that answer and turned with a low growl back to Clint before he sniffed the air again.

"Weak," Hulk repeated. "You ask what you are? You are a broken bird. The Bannerman, he is a broken man. Both the same."

"Not exactly the same," Clint said after a moment of consideration. "Bruce is a lot smarter than I am, sure, but I'm better looking."

There was nothing, no movement, no sound for a full minute until...

"Ha!"

Maria jumped involuntarily, but Clint couldn't blame her for it. He did too. Same as Steve.

"You tell joke. Funny, Hawkeye," Hulk said, with a grin that seemed more genuine than the last and something like a laugh rumbled out of him.

Clint even laughed. He kind of had to.

"I won't rip off your arm."

And then he stopped and Hulk just continued to stare at him.

Everything stopped.

"Ha!" Hulk yelled again, rattling the walls. "Now I tell joke."

It took a second, but Clint did laugh with him again, but after that the Hulk no longer seemed as inclined to chat.

Twenty minutes later, he was gone and Bruce was back in his place.

Clint and Steve had both seen the signs, having witnessed the conversion now a few times, but it was still a frightening spectacle. When Clint had asked, once before, if it was as painful as it looked, Bruce had assured him it was worse and Clint didn't doubt it.

"You all right?" Steve asked, having reached him first with a blanket ready to wrap around the other man's frame.

"I just need a minute," Bruce said with a stuttering pant. "I can feel that it's out. I'm not sick. It's gone, completely gone."

With the Hulk gone as well and the air finally cleared of the toxin, the SHIELD techs moved in and another hour went to testing and treatment before all four of them, along with Tony, Natasha and Director Fury, were evacuated to the Helicarrier. Pepper had declined the invite, having had enough stress for one day.

In medical Steve was cleared almost immediately, having never gotten more than a little lightheaded at the onset. Bruce was a bit quicker, but still had to go through the basic checkup. That left Maria and Clint, practically side-by-side, for another full hour of test after test and tension so thick the nurses didn't dare comment on it.

Maria was set loose first, seeing as she hadn't gotten shot with an arrow or broken anything vital, but fifteen minutes later Clint was discharged after her, his arm in a sling, ready and feeling clearheaded enough to sit through what was likely to be an all night debrief.

To his surprise, Maria was waiting outside the door for him.

Clint knew that they were destined for a long and frustrating conversation about everything that had been said inside the lab. He knew he also owed her an apology or two, but he'd kind of hoped they could do that later. Maria obviously had other ideas.

"I know where the conference room is," Clint said, still trying to avoid the mess he'd made.

"That's not where we're going," she said with icy coolness, gesturing down the hallway and turning left instead of the right Clint knew they needed to take.

"Where are we going then?" Clint asked as if they were taking a pleasant walk together of their own volition.

"If I had my way, to the brig," Maria huffed, finally letting her irritation show as she stopped before a door Clint knew all too well.

His insides went cold.

"What's this about?"

"You have fifteen minutes," Maria said, arms crossed over her chest as she gave a nod towards the door. "I know your quarters are already cleared out. If you left anything behind here, get it now, because you won't be back."

"I have a briefing --"

"You no longer have access."

"I have a right --" Clint began to insist, but Maria steamrolled over that as well.

"You have no such thing. You gave up your rights when you decided to go behind my back, behind Director Fury's back, and plan your little job transfer. Everything you had and you were, they were given to you by SHIELD. And now we're taking them back."

"You think that this power play of yours is going to stop me from being an Avenger?" Clint asked, well and truly angry now.

"I don't care what you do after this. That's no longer my job."

"Fine," Clint said, his eyes lingering on the door again.

"Fifteen minutes," Maria repeated, stepping around him and heading down the hall without another word or a single backwards glance.

As soon as the sound of her boots clicking on the tiles faded, Clint took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The room itself was small; he'd had three and all of them were basically the same. A room just big enough to pass as an office. Space for a desk and a few chairs, because he had never wanted more than that. Phil had never asked for more.

Clint kicked the door shut with his heel out of habit and then hesitated before slipping into the chair he usually occupied inside the space. The chair in front of the desk, not behind it.

There was nothing in here for him and he knew it.

Everything Agent Coulson had wanted Clint to have had already been given to him via his will. A book and a safe house and a silence so absolute it was deafening.

After he'd had enough, there really was nothing there for him and Clint knew it, not anymore, he got up and left. His own brisk steps hurried him out the door and down the hall towards the main exit. Clint got all the way outside, but not before the agent on duty stripped him of his badges, when he realized he had no way to get back into the city.

No car. No wallet. No anything.

"Need a ride?"

"Sir," Clint said, turning at once towards the sound of Director Fury's voice. "I was just..."

"Going in circles," Fury provided. "Literally. I watched."

"I thought you'd be at the briefing, sir."

"They won't start without me," he assured Clint. "And you don't have to call me sir now, you know that right?"

"I know I don't have to, sir," Clint said, dropping his eyes momentarily. "I was just... waiting."

"It's going to be awhile."

"I'm a patient man."

"I've arranged a car to take you back to the Tower," Fury said.

Clint started to object but knew it wouldn't make any difference.

"Thank you."

"You should have come to me," Fury said after a lengthy pause. "We could have worked something out."

"I don't think so, sir."

"Was it because I didn't ask you to take Agent Coulson's position?"

"I wouldn't have taken it if you had," Clint admitted. "That's not my place. I'm not good enough, sir. I can't... I can't replace him." 

"And you can't stay without him."

"No, sir. I can't."


	7. Part 7

Darcy Lewis slunk down into her chair, not bothering to contain the sigh that escaped her lips, and turned to glare at Jane who was sitting on her immediate left. Both of them had sat in the very back of the conference room, against the wall, as the 'adults' talked on and on about protocol or access or something. She really wasn't paying much attention.

It had been a very strange day.

Unable to catch Jane's attention, and not sure if she was just allowed to get up and leave, Darcy eyed the only other person not sitting at the table. He was about average height, wore glasses and was going gray already despite still looking like he might be in his late thirties. Early forties at the most, she figured. Also, he looked like she felt -- completely drained. Jane had called him Bruce, but Darcy didn't think that name fit him at all. He looked more like a David.

Everyone else she sort-of kind-of knew, or at least knew of.

Darcy had met Director Fury, once, but that had been more than enough to leave an impression. Agent Sitwell had been in New Mexico during the whole alien-robot invasion. She didn't know the other two SHIELD agents, Agent Hill and Agent Romanoff, she just knew that they were both loud and angry at one another. Darcy wished she knew what they were so loud and angry about, to at least make it interesting, but Jane was too busy paying attention to stop and explain the argument to her or the history behind it.

She'd find out later.

The other two men at the table were so well known Darcy almost didn't believe this was actually happening. Like maybe she'd been doused with some mystery toxin, which is what she thought they'd be talking about but they weren't, and was having a massive fever dream.

Not ten feet away from where she sat was Tony Stark and Captain America.

Captain-Fucking-America.

She'd be lying if she didn't admit that she kind of had a little crush. Or a big one. But really, who could blame her. He was gorgeous. He was even better looking in person which had to be some kind of optical illusion. He was too pretty to actually exist.

Jane really should have called her sooner. After all, she already had an intergalactic hottie of her own; did she really need to keep this one under wraps as well?

Darcy must have sighed extra loud, or something, because finally Jane was looking at her with her best mind-your-manners glare. Straightening up in her seat, Darcy could no longer take it.

"How much longer do we have to sit here?" she whispered to Jane.

"I don't know," Jane replied, keeping her voice low and her eyes on the table.

"But they're not even talking about anything good," Darcy complained, earning a 'shush' and an eye roll for her effort. For another full minute, she'd counted under her breath, Darcy tried to pay attention but found she couldn't. All she could make out was that everyone was extremely worked up about some guy named Branson.

"Barton," Jane corrected before Darcy had even realized she'd said the name out loud. "His name is Barton, and please, Darcy, this is important."

Darcy wasn't about to argue with her. It probably was important, just not to her. She had other concerns at the moment like the fact that she was jobless. And that she'd left her favorite jacket in the employees lounge at OsCorp. Also, she was two weeks late on her rent and was absolutely not going to go live with her parents no matter how desperate things became.

And why exactly was the name Barton so familiar?

And then she remembered.

"I've heard of this guy," she whispered to Jane, not certain how to broach the subject and settling on bluntly.

"Yeah," Jane returned, seemingly unconcerned.

"No, Jane," Darcy persisted, raising her voice slightly and unintentionally catching Bruce's ear as well. "I know this guy. I've met him."

"You know Clint?" he asked, leaning in closer so as not to interrupt the meeting still taking place.

"No, I don't know him," Darcy explain to both Jane and Bruce, "but I've heard of him."

"Yeah, Darcy, he was in New Mexico," Jane sighed. "He worked for SHIELD. You're probably --"

"No," Darcy interrupted. "Okay, maybe I did then but I mean like recently. Really recently. I've heard him talked about at the office."

"At OsCorp?" Bruce asked, forgetting to keep his voice down and drawing Steve's attention from the table.

Darcy just nodded, not certain why this was a deal. Wasn't this what they were already talking about? Didn't they already know he was the guy responsible? What the hell else was there to talk about?

"You've got to be mistaken," Jane said with a shake of her head.

"No," Darcy answered, realizing that now it wasn't just Jane and Bruce who was watching her, it was everyone. "I'm not. Barton, right? That's the guy's name, isn't it?"

"Clint Barton?" Agent Romanoff asked from across the room, giving her a look that clearly said she didn't believe it or anything Darcy had to say.

"Well, I didn't catch his first name. They only ever called him Barton."

"It's not that uncommon a name," Tony offered, but it was clearly half-hearted.

"It could be someone else," Bruce added, but it also sounded hollow.

"Or... could you have misheard?" Steve asked her directly.

"No," Darcy said, beginning to resent all of the push back she was receiving. It wasn't her fault they didn't like what she had to say. "I'm not mistaken and I didn't mishear anything. The guy's name was Barton. He was some kind of specialist they'd hired, freelance or something like that. It wasn't like I was part of the inner circle or anything, but people talk."

"Did you see him?" Agent Hill asked, her voice hard as stone.

"Once or twice," Darcy admitted.

"Could you identify him?" she pressed, arms crossed over her chest and the entire room was deathly quiet.

"Yeah. I could do that."

For a moment Darcy thought she was going to be led off to some kind of police line-up, like in the movies, but Agent Hill only went across the room to the nearest computer and pulled up a photo onto the projection screen.

Darcy looked at the picture as everyone in the room looked at her.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "That's not him."

"Satisfied?" Agent Romanoff said, rather viciously to Agent Hill.

"You're certain?" Director Fury asked. "Take a real hard look."

"I'm sure," Darcy said, giving the picture another once over. However... "But, the nose," she continued. "They've got the same nose."

Director Fury got to his feet and took over the computer Agent Hill had been occupying. After entering in a series of passwords, a new picture showed up next to the one of Clint Barton. It wasn't as good of quality, but it was clear enough. They had the same complexion, and as Darcy had said they would, they had the same nose. The eyes were the same shape, but whereas Clint's were closer to blue, the other man's eyes were hazel. The only other difference was the hair color; the other man's hair had a distinctive reddish-tint to it that Clint's lacked.

"Is this a joke?" Tony asked before Darcy had a chance to speak.

"Am I laughing?" Fury responded without inflection.

"Unbelievable," Tony said with a mirthless laugh as he shook his head. "Actually, scratch that, this is completely believable and expected and son-of-a-bitch," he finished, slapping his hand against the table.

"How long have you known, sir?" Natasha asked, as angry as Tony, her words crisp and clipped.

"Known what?" asked Steve.

"Sir?" Maria questioned, and it was clear then that the only people who did know what was going on were Fury, Tony and Natasha. Everyone else was left guessing.

Bruce caught up first.

"You let him think his brother was dead," Bruce spat out, on his feet in half a second. "Years. For years, you just let him believe... How could you do that? Why? Why would you do that?"

Both Steve and Maria's eyes snapped back to the photographs on the screen. What had at first only appeared to be similarities between the two men now stood out as proof of their relation.

"This is not something that was purposefully kept a secret," Fury said, loud and firm to be certain his point was made.

"No offense, sir, but that's bullshit," Steve replied, looking completely fed up with the never ending subterfuge.

Director Fury paused for a moment, as if to consider how much to reveal, and then without preamble began pulling up new information on the screen before them, including a few case files, several more photographs and a map.

Tony recognized the map immediately and looked quickly at Natasha. She gave him a sharp nod in acknowledgment but kept her mouth shut.

"Almost a year ago Agent Coulson came across a surveillance photo and recognized it as the man he'd assumed had died over a decade ago: Charles Bernard Barton."

"And no one thought that maybe Clint should be told?" Bruce asked, still obviously angry.

"It's... complicated," Fury said reluctantly.

"SHIELD knew," Tony said, catching on quickly. "You didn't. Agent Coulson didn't. But someone... some other secret squirrel inside the inside knew, didn't they? They knew that this Barton was alive and out there and they kept that tiny bit of information to themselves."

"Agent Coulson was acting under the assumption that prior to Clint Barton's recruitment into SHIELD, his brother was first approached by a separate department."

"And let go?" Steve asked incredulously. "You threatened Clint with prison for crimes you knew he didn't commit and just let his brother go?"

"Let's be clear, I have never met Charles Barton. He was assumed dead, and even if he hadn't have been, I would have never considered him viable as an agent of SHIELD. Clint Barton was under arrest at the time we caught up to him," Fury said, his voice even. "SHIELD did not apprehend him. SHIELD did not have him arrested. He had the choice to either come with us or stay and face the consequences of his own actions. He chose to join SHIELD."

"It wasn't Chisholm," Tony said quietly.

"Excuse me?" Fury asked.

"The secondary crime spree," Tony said, on his feet and using his own phone to override the information on the screen. Pulling up the map he'd received from Agent Coulson after his death; the one he'd been compiled with his own notes. "Now it makes sense to me. These here," he said, indicating the two dots side-by-side as they mapped a series of bank robberies that Clint had admitted he'd participated in with his mentor's help. "These are Barton and Chisholm. We know that. Clint's never denied it. That's them together, working as a team. It's only here," Tony said, indicating the where the two dots diverged and when the men began working alone. "Here is where they split. When Barton and Chisholm had their falling out.... except, I've looked. I've found no trace of Chisholm since then and that didn't feel right to me. Not even at the time of these crimes was there even a hint of the man. After that last hit together, Chisholm is like a ghost. Gone. No arrests. No employment records or financial transactions. No... nothing. So, this other assailant, it wasn't him. It was Barton's brother. The other Barton."

"Where did you even get that?" Hill asked, but she didn't really sound that surprised that Tony had.

"You knew, too?" Steve asked, however he did sound surprised, hurt even that this was being kept, not just from Clint, but from them all.

"I didn't... exactly. I was looking into it for a friend," Tony said, shaking off his own disquiet and throwing a glance in Natasha's direction in an effort to keep her from piling on. "Look," Tony said, growing more animated the more he spoke, "Clint had been injured that night, which is why it took him a few months to resume activities. But there is also a gap in time from that night to when Chisholm supposedly struck again. A bigger gap. Why would he need to wait? What was holding him back? It only makes sense that it wasn't Chisholm the second time around."

Fury and Natasha both stared at the map intensely. Besides Tony, they were the only two who had known exactly what had happened that night. They were the only ones Clint had confided the whole story too. Chisholm had double-crossed Clint that night, during that last robbery, and during the ensuing firefight, not only had Clint been seriously injured but he'd also assumed he'd mortally wounded his own brother. Agent Coulson had been there as well, undercover, and had later confirmed for Clint the absolute worst, that his brother had died.

Except, he had to have been mistaken.

"The problem with your theory is that Barton's brother is not an archer," Fury finally said.

"Maybe not before," Tony said and then he caught it. The look in Fury's eye. "You know this," he sighed, a little disappointed he wasn't the first to figure things out. "This was Phil's theory, wasn't it? Barton's brother caught up to Chisholm, learned all his secrets, took his revenge and took his place. And then what?"

"A year ago," Natasha said, nodding as it began to come together in her head as well. "A year ago Coulson took Barton out of rotation. Stopped letting him take solo assignments. Started making him stay in country and in sight. Lined him up for security details, even though he knew Clint hated them."

"Until we knew for certain, I thought it was better to keep him closer to home. Agent Coulson wanted to tell him why, but I wouldn't approve it. Not until we knew what Charles Barton wanted. Unfortunately, that investigation stalled once other events took precedent."

"Like New Mexico and New York," Tony added with a nod.

"So that photo," Bruce said after a pause, pointing at the original image of Clint's brother. "When was it taken?"

"Last year," Fury said, pulling it back into predominance on the screen and zooming out so that more of the image came into view. "In Sao Paulo."

The full image was of a crowd. Charles Barton was walking down a fairly busy street and did a pretty decent job of blending in. But that wasn't what caught everyone's attention.

Half a block up the street, still within the shot and doing a much better job of becoming part of the crowd, was Clint.

Fury pulled up several more shots, each in different parts of the city, and within each both brothers could be seen.

"Mr. Barton was kept uninformed of this information for his own protection," Fury finally said. "We can't be certain that his brother means him harm, but we can't know he doesn't until he acts."

What remained unsaid was that they didn't know how Clint would react.

"You didn't know he was back in the States?" Bruce asked.

"No."

"And since Sao Paulo, there's been no sign of him?" Bruce continued to probe.

"He dropped back off the radar completely."

"Until now," Tony said.

The sound of the chair scraping the floor as Steve hurried to his feet caught them all off guard.

"Where's the fire?" Tony asked him, knowing they were nowhere close to done with this conversation.

"We have to get back to the Tower. Right now."

"I have agents standing guard," Fury assured him. "If there was a problem, they'd have alerted me by now."

"Yes, sir, you may have men outside, but I don't think it will help. This man is clearly dangerous. He evaded SHIELD for years. He tracked one of your best agents unaware," Steve said, pointing to the pictures on screen for emphasis. "He also managed to incapacitate half our team and alter Tony's tech. Clint doesn't just need to know. He needs back-up."

"Stark Tower is secure," Fury said with confidence. "No one but Barton has gone inside since this little incident."

"That doesn't matter," Steve concluded. "We know the who. We think we know the why. What we still don't know is the how. And somehow, Charles Barton did get inside the Tower and switched out those arrows and set this whole thing in motion."

"And your point is?" Fury asked.

"What if he never left?"


	8. Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nearly done with this one! I think the finished piece will be 12 parts now, but I'm not entirely certain. I still plan on posting once a day so... Enjoy!

The two agents in front didn't say a single word the entire ride. Not to Clint. Not to one another. It was almost as if they weren't even there. Or as if Clint wasn't.

He imagined that last one was what they were going for.

Under different circumstances it probably wouldn't have bothered him half so much, but today it did manage to get under his skin. Clint wasn't a traitor, no matter what Maria said, but for the first time it really dawned on him that leaving SHIELD meant more than losing the word 'Agent' in front of his last name. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Thankfully out of the car after only a minor bit of fumbling thanks to his dead-weight right arm, Clint used the access panel to enter the lobby of Stark Tower and headed straight for the private elevators that led all the way up to the Avengers quarters. The building was still deserted, he'd guessed, except for Pepper who had remained behind.

Clint always knew she was the smartest one of them all. He should have followed her example and skipped out too.

When he arrived on the correct level the doors opened to the secondary lobby and the final entry point into the more secure areas that included the labs and sleeping quarters as well as the conference rooms and specialized gyms. Tony had consulted with Steve and Clint about security points and they'd come up with a few outside of the main entrance at the ground floor. 

The first was the elevator itself which required a unique code per individual and also had a camera hooked up to a program that ran a facial recognition scan as an added measure. If the code didn't match the face the elevator simply did not move. The second was in the lobby where the elevator let out. It was just a room, with a desk and a few monitors on the walls that listed instructions and two doors to choose from, depending on which way you needed to go. One was for residents and the other was for visitors. Inside the room you had to press your hand to a sensor which then scanned your prints. As you did that you were supposed to state your name and purpose and depending on your access level you were passed. If not, JARVIS would kindly ask you to wait and someone, usually Pepper, would head out to either escort the person in or ask them to leave.

"Clint Barton," he said as he cleared his throat and placed his good hand down on the sensor. "I'd like to go to sleep now so... Come on, JARVIS. Let me in."

When nothing happened, Clint sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a half a moment, cursing the day.

"Fine, did Tony change the protocol again? Whatever," he said, putting his hand back down on the sensor for a second try. "Clinton Francis Barton," he spat out, knowing how Tony liked to screw with his entry in particular because he got a kick out of Clint saying his own full name for some sick reason. "I am here because I live here. Let me in."

When still nothing happened it dawned on Clint that JARVIS hadn't responded. The AI was programmed to greet and interact with anyone who got this far into the process and then failed the final screening. But he hadn't.

"JARVIS?" Clint asked, but there was still no answer.

Deciding to skip protocol, Clint walked over to the residence door and gave it a tug. He wasn't really surprised when it didn't budge, but he felt better having at least tried it. Next he tried the visitor entrance with similar results. Just as he'd turned to try the elevator, assuming he could at least crash out on the lobby couches until the rest of the team returned and Tony fixed his glitches, Clint heard the monitor behind him crackle to life.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon," a familiar voice said over the video feed, "but I guess you weren't expecting me at all, were you?"

Clint's first thought was that he was still in the lab. That he was still so sick and ragged with fever that this was a hallucination. It would be the easiest explanation, but even as he turned and looked at the screen, he knew it wouldn't be true.

This was really happening.

"Barney," he managed, the name more of a question than anything else.

"Hey, Clint," his brother said with a false smile plastered to his lips. "How've you been?"

"I thought you were dead. I thought..."

"That you killed me?" Barney provided. "No. Not quite."

"What happened? Where... I can't..." Clint said, stammering for words. He stopped himself and took a deep breath, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. Might this not still be a hallucination? "I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were dead, too," Barney admitted. "Until about three years ago when I started hearing about this sniper who worked for SHIELD, whose favorite weapon was a bow. I took a look into it, put a few things together and realized it had to be you. There really was no one else it could be. I'd already seen to that."

"You know about SHIELD?" Clint asked, and if he hadn't already been suspicious about what exactly was going on here, he would have been then.

"My line of work, I kind of have to."

"What is that exactly?"

"Oh, well, I kill people. For a price. Usually a really good price. And wouldn't you know it, there are a lot of people who want you dead, Clint. A lot of them. You have not made yourself many friends over the years."

"Yeah, you were always the friendly one," Clint returned with dry sarcasm. Barney actually laughed and Clint felt his stomach go cold. This wasn't going to end well. Not for anyone. "So," he continued, knowing he had no choice, "is that why you're here? Got a contract on me?"

"Actually, I'm here because a business associate of mine asked me to pick up a few things that Tony Stark might have lying around his office. Killing you is just a bonus. But, you never know, I'm sure someone out there will give me a little something extra when they find out that, thanks to me, you're no longer around getting in the way."

"I didn't know it was you," Clint said evenly. "That night, Barney, I swear it. I didn't know."

"Begging already?" Barney cut in. "I honestly expected more."

"I'm not begging. I'm warning you. Leave, right now," Clint continued. "Just go. Neither of us want this."

"No, I do want this. I've wanted this for a very long time." 

"Barney, we don't have to do this."

"You've got a pretty nice setup here," Barney said, outright ignoring Clint's previous statement. "I can see why you've stuck around so long. Until now you have been really hard to track. Moving from city to city. Holed up inside SHIELD compounds. I'd have stopped by sooner but I wasn't sure if you really were here at first." Clint tired to interrupt, but Barney just barreled on, continuing to talk right over him. "Everyone knows about New York. Knows SHIELD was involved and I thought maybe... you always liked to play hero, didn't you? But it wasn't until I saw those pictures out of Malibu. The ones in the magazines and online and basically everywhere. When I saw you and that little redheaded girlfriend of yours... Damn, Clint, she's even prettier in person."

The cold knot in Clint's stomach untied itself and was replaced with a burning pit as he realized where exactly Barney was inside the Tower.

"Don't."

"She's not my type, but to each his own."

"If you touch her..." Clint started to say, but couldn't finish. He was too angry to even think straight and he needed to calm down. He needed to think and plan and, most of all, act.

"I'm not here for her," Barney assured him. "I'm here for you."

"Fine. Come and get me."

"I've got a better idea," Barney said as the door to Clint's left clicked open. "Why don't you come to me? And hurry. You wouldn't want me to get bored."

Clint gave the monitor one last glare before striding across the room and through the now opened door. The visitor's door, of course, which would make getting all the way up to Tony's office challenging, but still doable.

At least it was doable for Clint.

He'd been through every square inch of this Tower and might know it better than even the builders did, however that wouldn't make it any easier. If he'd still had both use of his arms, Clint guessed he could be up there and kicking Barney's ass in under ten minutes. But with one arm and a headache and being still a little nauseous, not to mention the near blinding rage he felt... 

The only thing he wanted to at the moment was smash Barney in the face.

Clint couldn't remember the last time he'd been this angry. Seeing his brother had been a shock and he was still left feeling confused by the circumstances, but he couldn't ignore the other man's intent. Barney meant to kill Clint. Barney meant to harm Pepper. Barney meant nothing but trouble and Clint needed to pull himself together and think.

His first stop was the kitchen.

Retrieving the gun he'd stashed underneath the water cooler, Clint tucked it into the back of his waistband and moved on. It wasn't much, but it was a start. A better start than the one knife he always kept on him in his right boot.

From there he wasted no time and hurried into the first conference room off of the main hall. He didn't bother with the lights, he knew they wouldn't work, just hopped up on the table and moved aside the center tile. Waiting there was another gun, which he pushed into top of his left boot, before taking a deep breath and jumping up into the air duct directly above him.

He nearly fell.

As he bit down a curse, Clint dragged the lower half of his body up, his eyes stinging from the pain of having accidentally bumped his broken collar bone in the process.

Allowing himself a brief rest, Clint quickly resumed his progress, knowing he only had to make it to the elevator shaft some fifty feet away in the dark, before he could access the maintenance shaft, complete with ladder, and climb the remaining distance to the penthouse suite.

The time it took, and it was a very slow go, let him think. It let Clint calm down and become more rational and work out a better plan than just storming into the office and confronting Barney face-to-face. If there was one thing he had learned over the years it was that it was never good to give an enemy what they wanted.

Barney wanted Clint mad and irrational and for awhile he'd gotten just that, but no more.

When he reached the top floor, he kept going, straight to the roof.

Out the main access point, with a lot more trouble than he was used to, Clint paused again to regain his breath. He felt suddenly very old and out of shape and just altogether hampered by the emotional toll of the day.

Once he'd regained his bearings, Clint proceeded to the north side of the building where he knew Tony and Pepper's bedroom was, and more importantly, where he knew there was a balcony outside their bedroom. Glancing down, it wasn't a long drop, but at night, without any kind of safety gear, and again his stupid worthless right arm, Clint didn't want to take too many added chances.

As carefully as he could, he lowered himself off the side and shutting his eyes let himself drop.

Back on his feet, Clint tried to peer inside the window but without much success. The glass was tinted and there were no lights on inside the room, but he got lucky. Tony was entirely too lax in the security department, something Clint had berated him about again and again, but not this time.

The balcony door was unlocked.

Clint slowly slid the door open and immediately realized the bed was empty and the bedroom door was open. Carefully and cautiously, Clint edged towards the door.

Five feet away he froze as Pepper's voice carried clearly to him from the other room.

"If you want money," Pepper said, trying to be reasonable, since that was what she was. Reasonable. She just didn't realize yet that Barney was not reasonable. Barney was a psychopath.

"What I want isn't anything you have," Barney answered, and from where he was Clint could hear him pacing.

"I can wire it to any account in the world," Pepper continued to try. "No strings. No tricks. Just please, please walk away from this right now."

"What's taking him so long," Barney snarled, ignoring Pepper completely.

Clint felt trapped. And worse, it was a trap of his own making.

He was where he wanted to be, almost, but Clint couldn't tell where Barney was exactly, and worse than that, he couldn't see Pepper at all. Best guess, Barney was using her as a shield, or planned to use her that way in order to get Clint to unarm himself. Clint's greatest opportunity lay with surprising his brother. Certainly coming out of the bedroom would surprise him, but not enough. What Clint really needed was a distraction.

Clint's eyes swept the room again and found just the thing sitting on the nearby end table.

One of Tony's remotes.


	9. Part 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Reiterating the tag warning for mentions of childhood abuse.*

It had been a rude awakening.

Pepper had just wanted a peaceful night's sleep, had hoped for maybe six or seven hours at best, but she should have known that it hadn't really been over.

The man who pulled her from her bed hadn't said much at first. He'd simply shook her awake and told her if she was smart she'd be free in no time. This was after, of course, he had tied her hands and feet and thrown her into a chair.

Pepper assumed he was after money by the way he rifled through the office, but that would be way too obvious.

After a few long winded rambles, Pepper picked up the basic idea of it all. The man was after Clint. She still wasn't sure why, or even how he'd managed to get this far into the Tower, or where the hell JARVIS was or anyone else for that matter. Wherever they were didn't matter, and it didn't stop Pepper from trying on her own to resolve the situation.

"If you want money," she said, but with a look he cut her off.

"What I want isn't anything you have," he snapped before continuing his circuit around the room.

Not ready to give up that easy, calm and collected, Pepper persisted, "I can wire it to any account in the world. No strings. No tricks. Just please, please walk away from this right now."

"What's taking him so long?"

Pepper eyed the door nervously, wondering the exact same thing. She was beginning to think that, instead of heading directly upstairs like her captor said he had, Clint might have gone for help. She didn't think that was very likely, just knowing Clint the way she did, but... "He's probably gone for the rest of the team. You've heard of the Avengers, haven't you? They all live here."

"That would be like him," the man said with a snort of disgust. "He was always hiding behind someone bigger and better. Had to have someone stronger around to carry his weight."

"That may be the case," Pepper said, reluctantly agreeing to keep the conversation going, "but --"

The sound of the elevator arriving cut her off.

The two of them stopped talking and stared, but the doors did not open.

"Come on out, you little coward," the man bellowed at the doors. "I know you're in there. I don't have all night."

When nothing happened, when the doors still didn't open and the elevator remained on level, the man had no choice but to stalk towards them. With quick, angry steps, he plod across the room, looking as if he was going to pry the doors open with his bare hands if necessary.

Pepper tensed up, unsure what she could or should do to help, when she saw a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye.

Clint stole quickly from the bedroom and without having to be told, Pepper remained silent. There was no time to waste, and without wasting a second of the time he did have, Clint threw her his knife. Not to her exactly, but into the arm of the chair she was sitting at, which was actually better. She couldn't have caught it and this way it was already positioned to aid her escape.

Still watching his movement across the room, Pepper slipped her hands over the blade and readied herself to saw through the ropes. All she was waiting on was for Clint to first make his move.

He didn't get the chance.

Halfway to his target, just as Clint had drawn a gun from behind his back, the man whirled around and they met eye to eye.

The gun came level with the intruder's head but was quickly deflected. Clint ducked one punch, and then another, but Pepper realized he might be in trouble when the third punch landed and then she knew she really needed to get her hands free.

Desperately she began to pull the ropes across the edge of the blade, so frantic in her efforts that she scraped herself several times and drew blood. 

The sound of the first gunshot caught her by surprise, but it only hit the wall nearest the elevator.

The second, third and fourth shots all hit the floor around where the two men fought.

During the entire fight Clint had remained completely silent as the other man hurled insults and accusations his way. The first word Pepper heard Clint shout was "Fuck!" and that had only been once he had landed hard on his right side, the side where he'd broken his collarbone earlier in the day.

Pepper froze as Clint lay there, eyes shut as he rocked on his back in obvious pain. His gun had been knocked free and his good arm was cradled across his chest, clutching the other at the elbow.

"Get up and fight me you sorry sack of shit!"

Both men were breathing heavy, but the intruder had taken several steps back, still wary despite his advantages in size and situation. He just stood there keeping a watchful eye on Clint as he reeled on the floor.

"Get up!" he screamed again, and Clint began to stagger to his feet.

His shoulders hunched and his whole body turned to protect his wounded side, Clint glared up at the other man, but he held his ground.

"Just leave, Barney. I don't want to hurt you."

"My God, you've always been pathetic," the other man, Barney, Pepper now realized, said in a tone that dripped venom. "Hurt me? Look at yourself. How are you going to hurt me? You were a pathetic child. You're a pathetic man. And now I'm going to make sure you get what you deserve."

"What I deserve?" Clint spat back at him. "What do you know about what I deserve? You don't know me. You didn't even know me then, when I was still a kid. When you abandoned me, Barney. Are you forgetting that part? You left. Without any kind of explanation or warning. You were just gone and I was alone."

"Quit whining, you weren't a child. You were sixteen."

"I was your family!"

"And that matters? What was I supposed to do? Take care of you? You didn't need me. You had Buck and Jacques. You had everyone eating out of your hand. Kissing your ass. Talking about how good you were; how goddamn special and talented you were. While I worked my ass off you were playing fucking games."

"I thought you were happy for me," Clint returned, still red-faced and angry. "Everything I had, I shared. Anything you wanted from me, I would have given it to you. I looked up to you. I trusted you," he spat through gritted teeth.

"And it's my fault that you're an idiot? I guess dad didn't get enough time alone with you to beat in that lesson, did he?" Barney said, beginning to slowly circle Clint as he spoke. "You can't trust anyone, Clint. Not if you want to make it in this world."

"Oh, I know it now," Clint assured him.

"I'm really not surprised to find you here. I should have guessed you'd find someone to keep taking your hits for you. Like mom did. Like I did. She always managed to keep you out of the way. You were her favorite. Her baby."

"She protected us both."

"No, Clint," Barney spit back at him. "She only protected you. Just like everyone does. You always manage to find someone to hide behind."

And whether because he'd finally heard enough, or whether he'd finally seen an opening, Pepper gasped as Clint lunged at Barney and redoubled her own efforts to undo her hands. The suddenness of the attack gave Clint the advantage, and of the two he moved quicker, but Barney was so solidly built and basically uninjured that it hardly seemed fair.

And this was Clint's brother? Wasn't he dead? Pepper mentally filed that bit away and, with her hands newly freed, got to work on the knot around her ankles.

Every few seconds her eyes would dart upwards at the scene. The first time was when she'd heard a crash, only to see Clint back on the ground. The next time was when she'd heard a thud and realized Barney had been kicked backwards and had all of his breath knocked loose. The final time, just as she finished, Pepper saw Barney deflect a punch and then grab Clint by the throat, throwing him back to the floor and attempting to throttle the life right out of him.

Pepper didn't even have to consider her options.

When the vase crashed down on Barney's head, Clint gave him a firm push, knocking him over but hardly incapacitating the other man. At best he was stunned. Pepper reached down and wrenched Clint up and towards her, pulling him along towards the door as well, just as Barney was lumbering back on to his feet.

"Run," Clint said as they reached the door, stopping and turning to reengage his brother. "I'll hold him off."

"Are you crazy?" Pepper asked, still attempting to tug him along. "You can't win this one and you don't want to."

Barney was still dazed, Clint could tell, and it would be easy enough now to finish him off. If he had the resolve. But Pepper was right. He didn't want to, not really. He couldn't.

"Let's go," he said, turning and pushing her forward towards the stairwell. "To the lobby. Quick."

Pepper didn't need to be told twice. They made it down a flight and half of stairs before Barney came chasing after them. Another two flights made it clear he was gaining and Clint pointed at the next exit and Pepper pushed her way through the door without a word being spoken.

All of the lights were off, Barney having made it as difficult as possible for Clint to advance through the Tower earlier, but both Pepper and Clint knew where they were.

"There," Clint said, pointing to the double doors just down the hall that led to the larger of the private gyms that were for the Avengers only.

Again, Pepper led the way, but stopped once they'd crossed the threshold.

"I'll hold the door. Find something to block it," Clint advised, already bracing himself for the onslaught to come.

Pepper gave the doors a quick scan and cursed the fact that there wasn't just a lock. The best they could do was run something through the handles.

"Here," she said, having dashed to the supply closet and returned with a mop.

"It's a start," he returned, running it through just in time. Half a second later Barney was at them, throwing all of his weight against the obstacle. "Get some rope. A weight bar. Anything. We need something stronger."

"Right," Pepper agreed, turning once on the spot and cursing the fact that this wasn't the weight room but the pool. Still, she kept looking.

The loud crack of wood drew her attention back to the door.

It was eerie how calm Clint had become after that.

"Pepper," he said, his voice quiet and his eyes never leaving the door. "Lock yourself in the bathroom."

He'd taken several steps away from the door and had pulled a second gun from his boot.

"No," she said, thinking of LA and shaking her head.

Clint nodded and didn't fight her on it. He couldn't. He just stood there and waited.

Pepper could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

"You going to shoot me?" Barney asked through the widening crack of the doors. "Kill me for real this time?"

"I don't want to, Barney. But yes. Yes, I am."

Barney hit the door again and it was close. The mop wasn't going to hold. It was clear now that Clint never expected it would for very long. 

Clint just stood there, the first thing Barney would encounter when he did get in. His only weapon left, raised and ready to fire.

"Let's get this over with then," Barney said, sounding almost subdued.

"Let's," Clint agreed.

Pepper watched as it all happened.

Barney burst through the door and got no more than three steps in when Clint fired. But Clint wasn't aiming to kill. Or if he was, it was a rare miss. The shot took Barney in the shoulder, high and to the right, in practically the same spot the arrow had taken Clint earlier in the day. It didn't even slow him down, Barney just continued to barrel right into Clint, knocking the gun loose and propelling the two of them back towards the pool.

The lights all fluttered.

The two men fought hard but again it wasn't a very even match. Once Barney managed to get Clint back on the ground, all it took was a few more punches and he was nearly subdued.

That's when the lights came up completely and Pepper spotted the gun.

Without hesitation, she ran for it. It was on the other side of the room, her only chance, and Pepper thought she could make it. Barney had been focused solely on Clint and had been ignoring her completely, until that moment. Seeing where she was headed, what she had in mind, he changed tactics. 

One last brutal kick to the midsection sent Clint rolling into the water as Barney turned and reached out, missing Pepper's arm by inches.

Three quick strides was all it took for him to grab hold of her and Pepper let instinct take over. She went for his eyes, his throat, his knees, any and every vulnerable spot she could remember and reach, Pepper struck at with all her might.

More irritated than harmed, Barney tossed her against the wall and for a moment all Pepper saw was stars.

"I've had enough of you," Barney snarled as he headed towards her, so intent that he hadn't heard the splash of water from the pool.

Pepper didn't think he'd even heard Clint yell out "No!" or realize his brother wasn't quite down yet until Clint threw his good arm around his neck and yanked Barney backwards and off his feet entirely.

"And I've had enough of you," Clint growled, pulling his arm tighter against Barney's throat.

To Pepper, it didn't seem real.

Barney's eyes began to bulge and his entire face was red, but Clint wouldn't let up despite the obvious strain it placed on himself.

The problem was that Clint still didn't have use of his right arm, so other than his own strength, there was no way to lock the hold in place. And after a few moments spent fighting for air, Barney figured that out and drove a hard elbow into Clint's gut. It took several hits but Clint finally faltered, momentarily, and Barney broke free. Turning and butting his head hard into his brother's, Barney then hit him once and again, but Pepper could see Clint wasn't really conscious by that point, the first hit having been sufficient, and there was nothing left in him to keep him on his feet.

Barney pushed him back into the water.

Pepper watched him sink out of view and it still didn't seem real.

"They're at the pool," Pepper heard Tony's voice call out over the intercom system. 

Maybe she'd hit her head harder than she'd realized.

But Barney looked up to and knew that it was over. The rest of the team had arrived. That's why the lights were back on. They were here and now they knew where to find him.

"Next time," he said to her, giving her a wink.

Pepper watched him run out of the room, too dazed to go after him, as she pulled herself back up to her feet.

Turning, the room was empty, but it shouldn't be. Barney was gone, but did Clint go after him?

"No," Pepper said, propelling herself towards the pool as she remembered the sound of splashing water. This time when Clint had sank in he hadn't come back up. "No," she repeated, trying not to panic as she saw him unmoving and underwater. "Hold on. I've got you."

Pepper jumped in.


	10. Part 10

They landed on the roof. 

Director Fury was personally bringing in a team from the lobby, while he left it to Agent Hill and the rest of the Avengers to work from the top down.

No sooner had the helicopter landed then Tony was already out the door and heading for his office. Steve was right on his heels, followed closely by Natasha, Bruce and Maria.

"Get the systems online and we'll..." Steve started to say, but Tony was shaking his head in disagreement.

"No."

"Tony, we need the Tower operational," Steve insisted. They'd been having this fight since the moment they left the Helicarrier. None of Tony's remote programs were working, including JARVIS, and they needed every advantage possible. Stark Tower was massive. It could take hours to search room-by-room. JARVIS could do it in half a heartbeat.

"No, I need my suit and then I need to find Pepper."

"We'll find them all faster if..."

"Fuck that."

"Tony," Bruce snapped. "No one else can bring your systems up. You have to do this or else we'll be working blind and it will take too long. We will find Pepper and Clint, but right now you have to trust us as much as we've trusted you."

Tony grimaced as he shook his head, and Bruce knew it wasn't about trust but control. It was easy to tell other people to relinquish control, it was harder to actually do it yourself. But Tony understood and finally said, "Hurry. But the moment I have this running again..."

"The very moment," Bruce agreed, giving him a nod before following Steve and the others out the door.

Once in the hallway the orders were given.

"We'll do this by floor," Steve said, as he hurried towards the stairwell. "Maria, finish checking this one. Natasha, you've got the one below this. Bruce, you go one more down before starting. I'll be on the floor after yours. Check everything and everywhere and be careful. When you're done, report in, then use these same stairs, skip three levels so we don't double up, and start over. Got it?"

Everyone nodded and Steve knew this was the best they could do given the circumstances.

"Are you good with that?" Maria asked Bruce, motioning to the gun in his hand.

"I won't win any contests but I know which end goes bang."

"If you need any kind of assistance, get on the radio," Steve tacked on.

Maria gave him a nod and then headed off to check the remaining rooms on the penthouse level. The other three moved into the stairwell.

"Thanks for the help with Tony," Steve said as they stopped in front of the door for Bruce's floor. Natasha had already started on the floor above them "I wasn't sure..."

"He knew we were right," Bruce said. "He just didn't want us to be. Besides, I figure we'll take turns with him. Next time he's all yours."

"How about there is no next time?"

"That's not very likely."

"Good luck," Steve said, giving him a grim grin and moving on so that they could both get to work.

Halfway through the first floor it began to dawn on Bruce how crazy this was. Despite his assurances to Maria, he didn't really feel qualified to be handling a gun. He was also in no way qualified to be a part of a manhunt. 

Well, no, he was, he did have experience with manhunts, but all of his experience was on the other side of that particular coin.

Bruce was nearly finished, not nearly as nervous as he felt he should be, when the bulbs overhead fluttered and at least began to provide a dim sort of light.

Smiling in the now semi-darkness, Bruce knew Tony was almost there, and by the time he'd completed the sweep entirely and was heading back towards the stairwell, the lights were on full strength.

"One floor down," Bruce said into his radio. "How's it going, Tony?"

"Nearly done," Tony reported back at him briskly.

"I'm moving on," Bruce told him, unsurprised that the other man was too intent on his work to respond back.

Three flights later, and just as Bruce put his hand on the door, Tony's voice came across the intercom.

"They're at the pool."

Bruce turned and ran the second two flights needed to reach the correct landing, alert to the fact that above him at least two more doors burst open as well.

When he ran into the room, he'd at first thought Tony had been mistaken. It was empty, or so it had seemed upon first look. Bruce quickly heard the splashing and saw them both, in the water, and he moved automatically.

Stopping at the edge, his whole body went numb at the sight.

Worse, he felt it. He felt the other guy push hard at his restraint. He wanted out but Bruce knew that was the last thing he could allow to happen. He would be of no help here, whereas Bruce would.

"Help," Pepper said, sounding exhausted by the effort of keeping herself and Clint afloat and further helping Bruce to pull himself back together.

Bruce jumped in on the other side of Clint and urged Pepper out of the water. Hefting the majority of the other man's weight up as Pepper took him around the arms and pulled, they managed to get Clint onto the deck, but his lips already looked blue.

He wasn't breathing.

Bruce put his ear to his chest, double checking what he already confirmed visually, before looking up and making certain Pepper was still with him mentally.

"I need you to push down right here," he said, taking and arranging her hands in the correct configuration and position on Clint's chest. "When I tell you and how I tell you. Okay?"

"Yes."

"Thirty times," Bruce told her. "Go."

"One," Pepper began, counting as she worked.

"Harder. Here, like this," Bruce said, shaking his head and taking over for ten counts. "Better. That's better," he assured her as she finished the first round.

Tipping back his head to ensure a clear airway, Bruce leaned in and forced air into Clint's mouth twice before motioning for Pepper to continue.

"Call an ambulance," Bruce called out, taking over again for Pepper about halfway through.

Pepper chanced a look behind her and saw Maria in the doorway, white as a sheet but already with her communicator at her ear.

"Have you cleared the floor?" Maria called from across the room.

"No," Bruce said, his eyes still on Clint as he continued to work.

"Medics are en route."

Pepper nodded but doubted Bruce had heard Maria's reply.

"Come on, Clint," he muttered before pushing even more air into his lungs. "Breathe."

In the distance, a door slammed and as it did Maria swung the door shut on them, closing off the scene from further view.

"The gym's clear," Maria could still be heard saying from out in the hall. "We need to check the remaining rooms here and keep going."

Without discussing it, both Pepper and Bruce knew who Maria was talking to.

"She should be here," Pepper said quietly, still holding out hope that this next time would work. It had to work.

"She doesn't need to see this," Bruce argued before trying again to breathe life back into Clint. When that failed Pepper felt the tears begin to sting her eyes and Bruce choked out a sigh. "This shouldn't be her last..." Bruce started to say, but couldn't finish. He'd witnessed their last moment together, earlier that day, and he wasn't certain if this memory would be better or worse than that one would. "Tell her," he finally said, starting compressions again. Refusing to give up. "You're right. Tell her and let Tasha decide for herself if..."

Pepper had just got to her feet when suddenly Clint began to gargle and spit up water, coughing hard and rocking on his side with a groan.

"Oh, thank goodness," Pepper sighed, kneeling back down and squeezing Clint's right hand. "Thank you, Bruce. Thank you," she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

"Clint look at me," Bruce urged, hoping they hadn't taken too long. He'd lost track and he'd never known just how long Clint had been under before he'd arrived. "Focus, okay? Just for a moment. Focus and look at me."

Clint's eyes swung wildly around the room before locking in first on Pepper and then on Bruce. Reaching up, he put his hand on Bruce's shoulder and gave it a weak pat, obviously unable to speak but grateful. Extremely grateful, his eyes clear and alert.

"Try and relax," Bruce said to Clint, his own voice sounding as shaky as Pepper's had, finally able to relax a little bit himself. "Medical is on the way. You're going to be fine."

"I hate that fucking pool," Clint muttered, shutting his eyes again for a moment before another series of chest-rattling coughs escaped him.

Bruce sat back with a smile, rubbing his palms into his eyes and every bit as thankful for this turn of events as Pepper. His hands were shaking and his entire body ached, but he imagined he still felt a thousand times better than Clint did at the moment.

"Are you okay?" Clint asked, turning his eyes back on Pepper.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Really."

"I still make a crappy bodyguard," Clint laughed, his voice no louder than a whisper.

"I think you did pretty good job actually," Pepper laughed along with him, wiping her eyes and forcing a smile.

"Did you get him?" he asked, turning to Bruce. "You know he's..."

"Not yet. We will."

"Check the vents," Clint said unable to simply keep quiet. "The maintenance shafts. The loading docks."

"It's being done. Don't worry about it. You need to relax, Clint. I'm serious."

"That's right. You are the serious one," Clint muttered in return, shutting his eyes in exhaustion.

"In here," Maria's voice carried back to them as she pushed open the doors and ushered in SHIELD medics.

Bruce was surprised, but pleasantly. After what happened he wasn't sure Maria would think that Clint would warrant any kind of special treatment from SHIELD. But, as her eyes lingered on the scene, Bruce realized he'd been underestimating her. She'd lashed out earlier in anger, but she was still concerned. Maria wasn't unfeeling or uncaring, no matter what she wanted people to believe.

"You should get looked at too," Bruce said to Pepper, once Clint had been stabilized on the gurney. "Just in case."

"I'm fine," Pepper assured him.

"No, she isn't," Clint murmured, pulling on Bruce's arm to ensure his attention. "She hit her head. Hard."

"Are you tattling on me?" Pepper asked with mock indignation.

"It's a two-way street," Clint promised her. "You wheel me off to medical every time I get a scratch, then I get to do the same to you."

"This isn't a scratch, Clint."

"And I saw what happened, Pepper. Get it checked."

"Fair enough."

"You can ride with us," the medic agreed, motioning for the two of them to follow.

Bruce hadn't planned on going with them all the way to the Helicarrier, but figured he probably should by the time they were ready to go. Pepper was still shaken and Clint looked worse than he'd ever seen and they both might need some additional support, and Bruce was currently the only one available.

If it's what he had to do to be a team player, than Bruce was happy to oblige.


	11. Part 11

There was a reason Clint hated medical.

It wasn't because they didn't do their job, they did. And they always did an excellent job, Clint had no cause to complain about the quality of care he received.

However, the general attitude amongst the doctors of SHIELD was that they knew best. In fact, so many of the doctors there felt that they knew so much better than their patients what the correct course of treatment would be that they didn't even bother to ask what the patient wanted.

The very first trip Clint ever took to the facility was for a dislocated knee about three months into his initial training. They'd told him that, in order to fix it, he'd need to be put under and Clint had believed them. And when he woke up afterwards, they'd not only fixed his knee but also removed his tonsils. Not because they were inflamed or looked to be any kind of problem, but because they could become one in the future and, no doubt, someone needed the practice.

That was the last time Clint willingly let himself be put under inside of a SHIELD medical facility. It was too much like being a human guinea pig for his tastes. He really just never knew what might happen and he hated it.

So when Clint woke up in a dark room, strapped to a half dozen machines after he'd repeatedly protested a surgery he thought was unnecessary, he was not only confused but angry.

"I said no," he muttered, still dry-mouthed and weak with fatigue.

"No one operated on you, Clint."

Sitting up as much as he could, Clint saw Steve was in the room in the very spot Bruce had previously occupied.

"How long have you been here?"

"About three hours," Steve answered. "Bruce needed to sleep so I took over. Said you wanted someone to stand watch so that the doctors didn't drag you out unaware."

"Thanks. You look like you need a nap, too."

"I do," Steve said with a smile. "It's been a very long night."

"It's morning?" Clint asked, turning to the window but the shades were drawn so it made no difference.

"It will be soon," replied Steve, getting up and stretching.

"Thanks again for staying. Usually..." Clint started to say, but didn't finish. Usually Natasha or Phil stayed with him whenever he spent any prolonged time in medical. They knew how he felt about it.

"Well, the doctors here are rather... persistent," Steve admitted. "They're pretty convinced your arm isn't going to heal on its own."

"It's a broken collar bone," Clint said with a shake of his head. "A few ribs. If it doesn't heal... then I'll consider surgery. Not before."

"It's your call. I'm not arguing with you."

"Yeah," Clint sighed. "You're probably sick of that, right? Me arguing."

"It wasn't entirely your fault."

"Just mostly," Clint admitted with a grin.

"You weren't yourself," Steve provided kindly.

"No, I wasn't."

"And since you know that," Steve continued, and Clint was already shaking his head in defeat, knowing he'd been set up. "You really need to talk with Maria and work out your differences."

"You mean apologize."

"Yes."

"I was... over the line," Clint said, even though it pained him to do it. "I will talk to her and I will say I'm sorry."

"Good, because she will be the liaison between us and SHIELD and there can't be this level of animosity, Clint. We all have to work together. We have to be a team."

"I know, I know," he said, shaking his head and dreading it already.

For a few minutes more there was silence, but it couldn't last. Clint was hesitant to ask, but since Steve wasn't volunteering any information, he had no choice.

"Did you..." Clint started to ask.

"About your..." Steve said at the same time.

They both stopped abruptly.

"Go ahead," Clint said, taking a breath and readying himself for the news.

"I'm sorry, Clint," Steve said shaking his head. "He got away."

"How?"

"We didn't get there soon enough," Steve said with obvious regret.

"Where's..." Clint started to ask, but shook his head. He didn't know how to process the information. "Is Pepper okay? Was anyone else..."

"Pepper's fine," Steve said quickly. "She's resting. Tony's with her just down the hall. Bruce is in a spare room, taking a break and everyone else is with Fury."

Clint nodded. He hadn't wanted to ask, which Steve probably guessed, but he had needed to know why Natasha wasn't there.

He wanted to see her, but dreaded it just the same.

The things he'd said...

"Excuse me," a new voice called out from the doorway. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Ma'am," Steve said, already on his feet. "He's been perfectly clear about undergoing any kind of operation. The answer is still no."

"I'm actually not here for that."

"No, Steve," Clint said dryly. "She's here to arrest me. Except with SHIELD there isn't really an arrest, or a trial even. Just a cell and an interrogator and hopefully an end. Am I right, Agent Morse?"

Bobbi Morse shook her head with a smile. "No, Clint. That's not why I'm here."

"Oh, are we on a first name basis now? Sorry, Bobbi, I didn't think we were such good friends."

"I no longer work with Counter Intelligence."

"I'm sure you're missed."

"I work for Director Fury."

"That's..." Clint said, but couldn't think of any way to finish that sentence.

"I'm a biologist, if you remember."

"I don't," Clint said gruffly. He did, but he wasn't about to let her know it.

"I've been looking over that toxin. Trying to help you."

"Yeah, well, thanks for your help," Clint said as he lay back against the bed. "I'm good now. If you want, Pepper's just down the hall. You can stop in and say hi to her. I'm sure she'd love to see you again."

"I'm sorry," Bobbi said, turning her attention to Steve. "Do you mind if I have a word alone with Barton?" Just for a moment."

Steve looked at Clint and when it was clear he wouldn't object, agreed, and stepped out of the room.

"Listen," she began, but he quickly interrupted.

"I don't want to listen to anything you have to say. I don't have to. I'm sure you know by now that I'm no longer with SHIELD."

"I do know that."

"And?"

"And..." she said, looking confused. "What?"

"Did you know?"

"About your brother?" she guessed, which Clint figured couldn't be hard given the scowl on his face. "Yes, I did. But I didn't know that you didn't know, if that makes any sense. Not until Director Fury informed me."

"Fury knew, too?"

"Yes."

"Is that why CI targeted me? Because of Barney."

"It's one of the reasons."

"Just one?" Clint asked with a laugh.

"Your... relationship with Agent Romanoff didn't help."

"I don't have a relationship with Agent Romanoff."

Bobbi smiled tightly and nodded, clearly not believing him. "It's not my concern if you do," she finally continued. "My concern is what's happening here."

"What's happening is my brother --"

"It's more than that."

"How much more?" Clint asked. "Is this HYDRA again?" he tacked on sarcastically. It was the excuse they'd used last time; an organization that had been dormant for decades.

"We're... working that out... just stay on your toes, will you?"

"Isn't that what you said last time?"

"Something like that. Will you actually do it this time?"

"I'll give it a shot."

"Good," she said with a nod. 

"Is that it?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Unless you've got any advice on how to work with Director Fury and Agent Hill for me?"

"Don't piss them off."

"I'll do my best," she laughed. "See you around, Barton."

"I look forward to it."

Bobbi breezed out the door with a smile, leaving Clint to wonder just how much trouble lay ahead.

While Clint had been talking with Bobbi, Steve had spotted Maria by the receptionist desk and after a brief hesitation decided to join her.

"Finally done with Director Fury?" he asked.

Maria looked up at him with a wary curiosity, before shrugging and saying, "Yeah. Just now."

"Anything new?"

"No," she said, her eyes avoiding his.

"Oh."

"Not no, just..."

"Is this how it's going to be?" Steve asked.

Maria finally met his eyes and sighed. Steve could see she was worn down and knew she hadn't stopped since this whole thing began. She'd been just as sick as Clint had been, minus the arrow to the shoulder and near death experience, and that hadn't been easy. However, he hadn't expected her to have an attitude with him. She may be angry with Clint, with the situation, and all rightfully so, but Steve and Maria had never had any issue seeing eye-to-eye.

Until maybe now.

Maria glanced once around the room and then motioned towards the exit. Steve followed without complaint, only interested in what she had to say and why it would require privacy. They were already on SHIELD property, onboard the Helicarrier, and a short distance later they found themselves on a small deck that was completely isolated.

Steve watched as Maria looked out over the railing, her shoulders slumped in a fashion he'd never witnessed in her before. 

"Barton has shit timing," she finally said, turning back to face him with the more familiar stern expression Steve associated with Maria.

"Pardon?"

"Fury needs him. We need him," Maria admitted, "but I guess... I've been ignoring the signs. I knew he wasn't happy, but hell, he's never happy."

"I don't think there's anything you could have said or done that would have changed Clint's mind."

"You're probably right. Still, you'd think Romanoff would have gave me a heads-up," Maria continued. Steve had absolutely no clue how to respond, something that must have shown clear on his face given Maria's laugh. She actually laughed. "I don't expect you to defend her or him or any of us, Steve. We've all been out of sorts since New York. We've never recovered from that and... I'm not sure we will."

"What's going on, Maria?"

"I wish I knew."

"Back in the lab you said something larger was happening. Something bigger than us individually. What is it? What's going on?"

Maria thought on it for a long beat.

"Do you know why Barton hates me so much?" asked Maria. 

"Hate is a strong word."

"Okay, dislike. Do you know why he dislikes me?"

"No."

"Because I follow orders," Maria answered. "I follow orders because I believe in structure and rule of law. I understand that there is a larger reason behind not just what we do, but how we do it. Why we do it. His job allows him flexibility. It gives him the ability to bend and even to break, and still somehow stay within his own moral code. Mine doesn't. And for years I've been a stellar example of by-the-book productivity for SHIELD."

"Until New York?"

"Protocol says that an order issued by the Council during a stated emergency cannot be overridden and that anyone who attempts to counteract said order will be deemed a traitor and that traitor should be apprehended at all costs," Maria stated flatly before pausing with a frown and dropping her eyes. "I was made Deputy to watch Director Fury. To be there when he counteracted a direct order. I didn't know it then, but I do now. I was perfectly groomed and placed to set him up, or to set me up depending on how you look at it. It was really only a matter of time and opportunity."

"Which Loki provided."

"Exactly," she agreed. "Except I didn't stop him. I didn't even try to stop Director Fury. I agreed with him, which I'm sure no one counted on, but that was really just the beginning. They want him out, Steve. I don't know if it's the entire Council or just enough of them, but they want Director Fury gone and... and I can't see how that's a good thing. I know you don't agree with his methods, I don't agree with all of his methods, but he has principles. He is fighting on the right side of things and I plan to keep fighting with him."

"We don't mean to work against you, Maria. You do understand that, don't you?"

"I do," she said, giving him a curt nod. "But the timing... Damn Barton, the timing. Director Fury needs people in SHIELD he can trust. Outside... doesn't matter. It doesn't help. And Barton is loyal. Barton may piss and moan but he's solid in the field and he's solid as an ally. Sitwell is being transferred because he's already too close. They'd move me if they could, Romanoff as well, but our involvement with the Avengers hinders them. Slowly but steadily they are removing all of his support and putting their own people in place."

"What is Director Fury doing about this? Why hasn't he said anything to us?"

"He's doing what he's always done, his job. He doesn't care about any of this as long as it's only affecting him. He knows he's not untouchable but..."

Maria grumbled in frustration and Steve didn't know what to say. He understood her frustration, felt it himself, but if Fury wouldn't act, what could be done?

"I don't expect you to save the day here, Steve," Maria said, catching his eye again. "I'm just venting. Barton's not even out the door for twelve hours and they've already found his replacement. Had her conveniently on hand."

"Agent Morse?" he guessed.

"Yeah. Her," Maria said shortly. "Comes from Counter Intelligence."

"Which means?" Steve asked, unable to smile a bit at the way she'd said it. Like she'd been spitting venom.

"It means I trust her about as far as I can throw your shield," Maria answered, but she'd smiled back at him as well. "I'm exhausted," she added.

"You look like you could use a break," he said, hoping not to offend. Maria nodded, admitting as much.

"A break and a vacation," she said as she reached for the door.

"One last thing," he said, reaching out and taking her by the elbow to stop her in her tracks. "Why tell me? If there's nothing I can do, no way to help... why are you..."

"Trusting you?" she guessed.

Steve nodded. He didn't get it. No one he knew inside of SHIELD trusted anyone. For any reason. They barely trusted one another.

"Everyone trusts Captain America," she said and he laughed.

"Nice try."

"Fine then... because you're fair. You don't take sides, that I've seen, unless you have to," she explained. "You could have just sided with Barton today, but you didn't and... and maybe I'm just being paranoid. Maybe I'm making nothing into something. SHIELD breeds paranoia. I just thought that by telling you, someone else could have an eye out as well. Someone outside the situation."

"I don't think I'm necessarily outside of this."

"No," she admitted. "You're not, but you are the best option I have. The only option to tell the truth."

"I like the truth, Maria."

"I do too, Steve."

"I'll keep an eye out," he agreed. "It's in all of our interest to keep Director Fury in place. You're right, I don't always agree with him but... I'm sure they still have that saying now, about better the devil you know?"

"They do."

"I know Director Fury, about as well as I'm going to at least. I'd rather he be running things than anyone else. But, Maria? I trust you, but I have to keep being able to trust you. No more lies. No more deception. Get Fury onboard with that idea, at least amongst ourselves. This thing today with Clint's brother..."

"I was just as surprised as you were."

"I know," he said with a nod. "If you hadn't have been, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I'm sure Director Fury had his reasons, he must have if Agent Coulson agreed with him, but that has to end."

"I agree."

"Good then," Steve said, holding out his hand for Maria to shake on it. "No more secrets?"

Maria raised an eyebrow at his gesture, but didn't hesitate to meet him halfway.

"No more secrets."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go!


	12. Part 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!

By nine o'clock that morning, Tony had decided everyone was well enough to return home. He wanted Pepper back in the Tower where, despite the events of the previous night, Tony still felt he had more say in things than he did at the Helicarrier. He wanted Clint out of the way, recouping in his own space and time, and away from prying eyes and nosey doctors. Tony wanted normal, or as close to normal as he could get, and he wasn't getting it at SHIELD.

No doctor was going to tell him otherwise.

And if anyone was surprised Natasha hadn't joined them on the return trip, no one said a word.

Gathered in Tony's living room everyone was exhausted almost past the point of speaking but no one exactly eager to be anywhere else.

"So," Tony said after a prolonged silence, "on a scale of one to ten, what do we think? Solid six?"

"Five," Steve said.

"Seven," Bruce added.

"Two," Clint shrugged, his whole body still ached.

"Ten," Pepper countered, making Tony smile. She was honestly happy they'd all made it out alive. If every 'mission' ended that way, she'd gladly declare them all rousing successes.

"Six," Jane said, agreeing with Tony's initial assessment. The job got done, but it hadn't been pretty.

"Four," Darcy offered, not really surprised when they all stopped and looked at her. "What?"

"Who is that?" Clint asked, pointing at Darcy, as if he could be talking about anyone else. "Who are you?"

"She's our new assistant," Tony answered. "Darcy Lewis meet Clint Barton. You two can shake later."

"A four?" he asked, turning to her directly.

"You gave it a two."

"I was there," Clint argued, but without his usual bite. "Getting my ass kicked all over this building. That's a two."

"So... averaging just under a six," Tony figured. "Not bad. I'm starving. Who wants breakfast?"

Clapping his hands together, Tony got to his feet and headed towards what had become the communal kitchen. In ones and twos they all got up to follow and before long there was pancakes and bacon and juice and coffee and everyone felt just a little bit relieved. It felt normal again, or as close as they were ever likely to get to normal.

After a few hours spent eating and talking the group broke up for their own pursuits. Tony and Pepper wanted to set their living quarters right again, although in truth a cleaning staff had already swept in and handled the worst of it. Bruce, although he liked everyone very much, truly needed to be alone for at least a few hours each day and had gone a whole day swarmed with people and slightly overwhelmed. Steve had taken it upon himself to find Darcy a suitable room and show her around the place. Well, maybe he didn't actually suggest the arrangement, she had, but he hadn't objected. Jane went with them, for Steve's own protection. This left Clint, who was too tired to do anything other than sleep and went straight to his own room to do just that.

His sleep was deep and dreamless, aided by pain medication, but relatively short lived. Clint had slept a few hours in medical and spent most of the previous day in a fever induced stupor, so he hadn't needed very long to recharge.

When he woke Clint realized immediately that not only was a shower going to be out of the question, a quick splash of water to the face was about all he could stomach, but that he was going to need a little bit more assistance then he was typically comfortable asking for in regards to changing and re-bandaging.

Gathering up the supplies he'd need, plus a fresh shirt, Clint went in search of aid, eventually ending up in the lounge where Tony had dismantled a tablet into about four thousand pieces, give or take, for some nefarious reason.

"Got a second?" Clint asked once he was reasonably sure that just standing there wasn't going to draw Tony's attention.

"Hey," Tony said, smiling in acknowledgement. "I thought you'd be conked out all day. What's happening?"

"I need a little help here," Clint said, tossing the extra sling and bandages onto the couch. "I'm pretty good at getting all of this off, but redoing it is not easy."

"Yeah, sure. No problem," Tony answered, getting to his feet and undoing the bandage that had been inconveniently, for Clint at least, fastened on his back. "Although, isn't this a lot of... production for a collar bone? Why the sling and the bandage?"

"Because he won't wear the sling unless his arm is strapped down," Natasha answered from the doorway. Both men turned their eyes in her direction and Clint had to marvel at her uncanny ability to just pop up like that. "He always says he won't use his arm," Natasha continued, "but he does. I'm surprised they didn't put him in a body cast this time."

"They tried to put a pin in it this time," Clint said, no longer looking at her at all, and both Tony and Natasha picked up the slight bit of accusation in his tone.

Clint might as well have asked, 'Where were you?' but he didn't. He wouldn't with Tony there. He probably wouldn't have even if they were alone. It was a typical reaction to her as of late; he could marvel at her and be annoyed all at once.

"You always use a sling?" Tony questioned, ignoring the icy tension that had cropped up in the room.

"Yeah."

"Stay right here," he returned, sounding too delighted with himself for any good to come of it.

"Tony," Clint called after him, "I don't want some kind of mechanical... anything. Tony? Answer me!"

"It's not," Tony assured him, dashing back into the room and holding up a very normal looking brace, for which Clint was thankful. "It's a butterfly brace. It'll be a little awkward at first, might ache more, but you'll have better movement with it than with the sling and amazing posture."

"This works?" Clint asked, clearly skeptically as Tony helped fasten it into place over his freshly changed t-shirt.

"Of course it does. I've broke my collarbone more than a few times. This way is better. But really, you've got to limit your movement," Tony tacked on because of the glare he received from Natasha for his efforts. "You can move your hand and all that, just don't be doing any lifting or archery. Chasing lunatics around the Tower."

Clint bit his lip and dropped his eyes because he knew. Clint knew that there was more to that offhand comment than there appeared.

"Speaking of which..." Tony started.

"Save it."

"Why didn't you call for backup?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms and standing firm.

"Is this really happening? Am I really about to get a lecture on responsible behavior from Tony Stark? Christ, Tasha, has it gotten this bad between us that you'd ask him to help you ambush me?"

"That's mildly offensive," Tony responded.

"I didn't think you'd listen to me alone. You won't even stay in the same room with me alone. Now answer the question."

"I didn't have any way to call for backup," Clint snapped. "They took all my credentials and my communicator before kicking me out of the Helicarrier and dropping me off here. Was I supposed to run back outside and look for a payphone? Was I supposed to ask my homicidal maniac of a brother if he could just wait a few minutes for my friends to come home and help? What else was I supposed to do?"

"I'm not complaining," Tony shrugged and he really wasn't, but it brought up an interesting point for him to consider. All of their comms were done through SHIELD and that would have to change.

"You should have at least tried," Natasha said, still angry and unsatisfied with his answer.

"Well, when you come up with how I could have been possibly more prepared for that scenario, I will gladly listen to every word you have to say," Clint said sarcastically, but when Tony and Natasha, instead of both looking either amused or put-off by his comment, instead exchanged an almost worried glance, Clint grew worried himself. "What am I missing here? What else don't I know?"

"How much do you know about last night?" Tony asked, sounding completely serious.

"Just that SHIELD knew my brother wasn't dead. Oh, and Fury knew. No one thought I should know, but when have they ever bent over backwards to keep me in the loop?"

He'd said it evenly, but it wasn't enough to disguise the hurt. It felt like a betrayal to Clint, because it was a betrayal. As much as he owed SHIELD, SHIELD had owed him in return.

And then there was that look, again.

"What else was I not told?" Clint finally asked them both directly.

"Sit down," Tony sighed.

"That bad," Clint said, but he took a seat just the same.

When neither of them answered, he knew that it had to be true.

As best they could, the two of them explained not only Director Fury's involvement and knowledge of all of the events that led up to last night's encounter, but Agent Coulson's as well. They didn't sugar coat it. They didn't try and make it sound any better or worse than it actually was because there was no way around the facts. Tony also explained the information he'd received as a part of Phil's will and his own assumptions and exactly how much he and Natasha knew and why they hadn't just said something sooner.

When they'd finished at first it was as if Clint hadn't heard a word they'd said. He just sat there, staring at the floor with a perfectly blank face for several long minutes until finally nodding briefly and getting to his feet and moving towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Natasha asked, sounding wary.

"Don't worry about it."

"Clint," Tony called, on his feet now as well as both he and Natasha headed Clint's way.

"You're a hypocrite," Clint said, suddenly wheeling on Tony. "All your talk about open communication was bullshit. And you," he said, facing Natasha for a moment before balking. "I can't... I can't even..."

Without saying any more, he left. Clint left the room too angry to talk and made a beeline for his room.

"Hey," Steve said as he passed him in the hallway, but Clint didn't even glance his direction, just continued on and slammed the door shut behind him.

Two seconds later there was a knock.

Clint opened the door with a blank face, staring back at Steve with steady indifference.

"Everything okay?"

Clint didn't even know where to begin, so he just shook his head, threw his good hand in the air and walked back into the room leaving the door open so Steve could decide for himself if he wanted to follow or not.

"I take it they told you."

"Did you know too?" Clint asked, sinking into the couch in defeat.

"No."

"And doesn't that piss you off?"

"Yes, actually, it did," Steve admitted, taking a seat directly across from Clint. "I'm tired of the deception and lies, but I don't think it was done to intentionally hurt or mislead you."

"They should have just told me. Good or bad or whatever. They should have told me."

"You're right. They should have just admitted what they knew or what they thought they knew about your recruitment into SHIELD, but Clint, honestly, you're not easy to approach."

"How am I not easy to approach? Do they not know where to find me? Am I --"

"This," Steve interrupted. "Right here. This. You get angry. You shut down. You shift the blame. Worse, you blame yourself. I get you're not use to working with people, but you have been around them, haven't you?"

"Not a lot."

"Well, we've all got that in common," Steve half-laughed, half-sighed. "Listen, I'm not trying to say you're wrong for being angry with them, but that is only going to get you so far. They were trying to do the right thing. Whether or not they succeeded is up for debate. I didn't know Agent Coulson very well, but from what I did know, he would only do this to protect you. Natasha lies for a living, I get it, and while I don't understand your relationship with her, I can't believe she would do this out of spite or malice. And Tony wouldn't have agreed with her if he didn't think it was the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do would have been to include me in the conversation."

"Something I'm sure neither of them will forget."

"You're giving them all a lot of credit," Clint laughed in a frustrated manner, rubbing his good hand across his face.

"I like to give everyone a few chances. Some lessons take time to sink in."

"I have this feeling you're talking about me now, not them."

"Maybe," Steve admitted. "But, really Clint, you can either accept that the people in your life aren't perfect or you can just keep letting this divide between you and everyone else grow."

"Fine," Clint said, letting out a long held breath of air. "I'll calm down and talk to them both again. I'll at least hear them out and... and I can at least give them the benefit of the doubt."

"Exactly," Steve said, sounding pleased to have made some progress.

"Shit, what are you like... twenty?" Clint asked, getting to his feet and feeling exhausted again. "I'm taking life advice from like a twenty-year old."

"Technically --"

"Nope," Clint interrupted. "Not going to hear it. I'm going to take a nap. Again. So get out and then later I'll find Tony and Tasha but... I'm going to think this through first. With my eyes shut and hopefully... Thanks, Steve."

"Any time," Steve laughed in return, leaving as Clint headed back to his bedroom.

Clint didn't come back out of his room until it was nearly time for dinner.

Talking to Tony was easy and Clint accomplished that before eating. Tony understood why Clint was so angry and promised, maybe a little too easily, that he wouldn't keep things from him again. Even if it was hard for Clint to believe Tony, because Tony clearly knew that Clint would react badly to all of this, he couldn't say that the idea behind it wasn't well intentioned. 

Talking to Natasha was not going to be easy at all.

It still had to be done.

He didn't even need to ask, because after all this, they still could read one another too easily. After dinner, after everyone had settled in to various pursuits, Clint looked at her and Natasha nodded and they both left for the seclusion of the balcony.

"It was my idea not to tell you," Natasha said straightaway.

"I know."

"Tony ratted me out that quick?" she asked with an almost laugh.

"No, I just really know how you operate."

"It wasn't to hurt you."

"I know that, too," he sighed as he leaned back against the railing. "I just wish we didn't have to keep coming back to this place, Tasha."

"It's new for us," she admitted, moving to stand by his side. Close, but not touching; her own arms crossed over her chest. "This... All of it."

"I don't want it to be this way. I didn't... I needed space, yes, but I didn't mean to cut you out entirely. You've got to understand, I just wanted some time to get over you. I didn't think that, in the process I was going to ruin us. I thought I was saving us."

"Are you over me?" she asked quietly.

"No."

"Clint..."

"You don't have to say it, Tasha. And I know what you think. I know you think I'm just acting out because so much has changed. You think I'm in love with you because of New York or because you're the only one left in my life, but it's not true. Well, that last part was true. It used to be true until we fell into all this," he said, waving his good hand vaguely at the room they'd just left. "But I've always had these feelings, I just never told you about them. I never thought... Part of me knew what your answer would be so rather than hear it I tried to squash it on my own."

"Why did you change your mind?" Natasha asked, eyes still downcast.

"I was different. The world was different. After, I just realized that if I never even asked..."

For some time they stood there with just the sound of the city drifting up between them to fill the empty space.

"I haven't been okay either," Natasha finally admitted. "I don't know how to do this. I thought you'd get over it, too. I thought I'd get over it," she said, shutting her eyes. "I thought that if I just ignored it, avoided it, bled it... it wouldn't exist. Clint, it's not that I don't feel for you. I do. I honestly feel for you more than I knew I could for anyone. I just don't know what to do with that. It frightens me."

"Tasha, it's nothing to be afraid of."

Natasha sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered. "Again. I can't keep losing you but... I can't be your purpose either, Clint."

Clint felt his breath hitch in his throat because for the first time Natasha didn't sound as if she was outright refusing him. It wasn't a teasing denial or a rough berating. It was honest and sincere and he was grateful for the change.

"That's my fault if you felt that way. I wasn't trying to... I don't know, use you, to fix what's wrong with me," he momentarily stammered. "I just... want you."

Clint turned tipped his head down as Natasha moved to look his way, their eyes meeting and locking them both in place for a moment before the inevitable happened.

The kiss was warm and soft, all tender need but brief. When they moved apart again, it was with reluctance, but it was clear that neither of them wanted to rush things either way.

"We can work on this," Natasha said, breathing in deeply and shutting her eyes again for a moment. "Slowly, though. I'd like to start where we left off, if that's... Is that okay with you?"

"We left off fighting," Clint said with a low laugh. "Can we start somewhere a little happier than that?"

"All right," she smiled, running her hand up quickly through his hair. "How about as friends?"

"Friends," he repeated and he pressed his forehead to hers.

"You're not going to make this easy," she murmured, leaning up and into him, kissing him harder this time and longer.

"You were saying?" he asked once they broke apart.

"Slow," she said, firmer than before and stepping back for emphasis. "Let's just get through a week without fighting first and take this as it comes. If we're going to try this, I want it to work. I don't want to rush it or ruin it."

"Neither do I."

"I've got some things to work out," Natasha admitted. "Some trust issues."

"I've got a few anger issues of my own," Clint replied. "Amongst other things."

"Well, we've got some experts at hand," she said with a smile.

"So, what's the plan? We work out our own issues. Work out our issues with each other. And..."

"And see where this goes," she stated.

"I'd like that."

"So would I." 

They continued to stand by one another's side in the night air, quietly content as the reality of the situation washed over them both.

It was a start.

Maybe not a perfect start, but they weren't perfect people. A beginning was more than Clint had ever hoped for and a chance was all he had wanted.

"We should probably go back in or else they're all going to start to talk," Natasha said, nudging him gently towards the door.

"They'll talk no matter what we do," Clint said with a smirk, turning her way instead and bent towards her.

"Better make this one count," Natasha said, pressing her fingers to his lips and momentarily halting his progress. "It's the last one tonight."

"What? You're rationing kisses?"

"Yes."

"Are we talking daily? Weekly? Monthly? I kind of deserve to know this sort of thing," Clint said.

"I haven't decided yet," Natasha answered, and he got it. When she meant they were taking this slow, she really meant it. They needed to fix their relationship before moving on to the next step.

Clint had no problem with that; it was her call as far as he was concerned. He didn't think she'd be cruel and drag it out and he knew her issues weren't just with trust.

"Are you going to let me know when you do decide?" he asked instead.

"Yes."

"But this is the last one tonight?" he confirmed.

"It is," she answered. "So, like I said. Make it count."

Clint did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might guess, this series is far from over. I was just looking over my original notes for this arc and realized I'd only initially planned for three stories. Now, eight stories in, I've got at least another four planned and outlined so... I hope you all like it enough to have some patience with me as I continue to work on this series and a few other standalone fics I've been neglecting. Thanks for all the great comments and kudos and everything really and thank you Tripp for beta'ing the heck out of this monster.


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